


Ties That Bind

by hermajestymanon



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Autistic Character, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Next Generation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:12:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermajestymanon/pseuds/hermajestymanon
Summary: After the events of the final Throne of Glass book, the stage shifts to the next generation of heroes. Will the world be enveloped in darkness or will they prevail and save the day as their parents did?





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying back on the pillow, Lyria folded her hands behind her head before crossing her ankles. She smiled slowly, sliding her brother a teasing smile and wiggled her eyebrows. “I forgot to tell you, Ciel is coming and he’ll be here for quite a while.” Sam’s eyes closed and he sighed. “Apparently, his parents want him trained by both the fae and witches.”
> 
> Lyria bit back a smirk as color rose in Sam’s cheeks. Her brother ran his braid back behind his ear as he turned the page in his book. “And how long is ‘a while’?” 
> 
> Lyria bit her lip, keeping herself from smiling at how painfully obvious her twin was being. She sat up and nudged him. “Why do you want to know, Sam?” she asked sweetly.

Flinging her braid over her shoulder, Lyria swaggered her way through the castle, taking note of the fae guards watching her. She gave them a curling wave and smiled broadly; to which they merely exchanged glances and shook their heads.

Following the long gilded hallway to her chambers, Lyria leaned against her door frame and sighed through her nose, gazing at her twin laying on her bed with his face in a thickly bound teal book. How  _typical_.

Whistling loudly, Lyria laughed at her brother as he dropped his book, nearly falling off her bed. She dropped the rising temperature with her ice as his gold-rimmed eyes narrowed in on her, his face flushed, nearly glowing.

She tilted her head and examined the ends of her braid before sliding a bright smile to her brother. “What are you doing in my chambers, Twin?”

“Well, I  _was_  reading,” Sam huffed and leaned over, picking his book back up. Glowering at her, Sam settled back into her bed. “Now, if you’ll  _excuse_  me, the High Lady is about to fuck Tamlin up.”

Lyria stalked into her room and plopped down on her bed, scooting into Sam. “Why can’t you read in, oh I don’t know, your  _own_  room?” She poked Sam’s side; he squirmed, his skin raising with gooseflesh. Lyria bit back a smile at how ticklish her brother was. “You have one for a  _reason_ , you know.”

Not bothering to look up from his book, Sam sighed through his nose and moved away from her prodding. He turned the next page, arching his eyebrows. “My room’s a mess. Yours isn’t thanks to your compulsive cleaning habits.”

She propped her chin on her fist and looked up at her brother. “You could just have a maid clean your room if you’re too lazy to do it yourself.”

His lips quirked to the side in a half smile. “But then I wouldn’t know where anything was.” Lyria snorted. “And I don’t want anyone touching my books. Or feathers.” The last time someone messed with Sam’s belongings, he hadn’t been able to find his books and it took both her and Asterin to calm him. Sam had needed new curtains in his room after his meltdown.

Laying back on the pillow, Lyria folded her hands behind her head before crossing her ankles. She smiled slowly, sliding her brother a teasing smile and wiggled her eyebrows. “I forgot to tell you, Ciel is coming and he’ll be here for  _quite_  a while.” Sam’s eyes closed and he sighed. “Apparently, his parents want him trained by both the fae and witches.”

Lyria bit back a smirk as color rose in Sam’s cheeks. Her brother ran his braid back behind his ear as he turned the page in his book. “And how long is ‘a while’?” 

Lyria bit her lip, keeping herself from smiling at how painfully obvious her twin was being. She sat up and nudged him. “Why do you want to know, Sam?” she asked sweetly.

Her brother glared at her as he willed the heat to not rise further into his face and the room. He paused, taking in her fighting leathers and pulled a twig out of her braid, examining it. “Why are you so filthy?” His face blanched and he dropped the branch. “Oh no.”

She patted his thigh, “You forgot training. Father is going to  _kill_   _you_.” Sam groaned and she leaned into him, slinging her arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I covered for you.” Sam sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. “ _Again_.” He winced.

 “She really did,” a voice said.

Gold-rimmed eyes wide, Sam jot up, his book falling on the floor with a  _thud_. He inhaled sharply. “Mother-“

Lyria looked to see their mother leaning against the doorframe. Queen Aelin’s gold-rimmed eyes focused on her brother. “Sam Ashryver Galathynius Whitethorn. You are so  _lucky_  your sister covered for you. Otherwise your father would be more pissy than usual and you know how he is about your training.”

Lyria winced; she broke out the full name. With Sam having difficulty controlling his fire, their father tried getting him to train more, despite Sam’s protests. Their mother gave Sam a cheeky smile. “Now you get to make up for it by being the one to train with Ciel.” Lyria smirked; she loved the way her mother’s mind worked.

 “But- “Sam started. Their mother rose her brows and tilted her head, daring him to argue with her. Sam promptly shut his mouth and nodded, his expression cross. “Yes Ma’am.” Their mother smiled brightly to which Sam just rolled his eyes. Lyria loved it when Ciel came, it made Sam grumpier than usual.

* * *

The thundering sound of Abraxos’s wings filled Ciel’s ears as he raced through the sky towards Terressen, his black hair whipping in his face. Ciel’s mouth split into a grin as Abraxos dropped through the sky. His arms flew up as they pummeled to the earth, Abraxos’s wings lifting them up from the ground at last minute, narrowly missing the jagged peaks of the Wastes.

 Ciel let out a whoop and manic laughter as Abraxos lifted back up into the sky. His heart jumped in his throat as Abraxos raced upwards, pure adrenaline coursed through his veins as they slid across the clouds. “Faster Abraxos!”

The Wyvern let out a wild shriek. With a booming flap, Abraxos obeyed his command and flew him faster. His heart sang in his chest as he neared Ornyth, towards his friends and family. Towards Lyria. And Sam.

* * *

Walking past his parents’ chambers and down to his own, Sam’s fingers thrummed against the thickly bound book in his hands. Ciel was coming. He hadn’t seen him since they returned from the scouting mission and it made his heart lodge itself in his throat.

Stalking through his bedroom past the array of discarded books and weapons, Sam surveyed the expansion of books trailing from floor to ceiling, in an order only he understood. His books were the only things he kept meticulously in order. Having someone move his books without warning him first frustrated him to no end. There was a reason he allowed no one in his rooms.

He smiled faintly as he slid the book in the shelf and moved to his closet, pulling out leathers. He sighed through his nose and put them on the bed before pulling off his shirt and looking in the mirror. Sam surveyed his torso; from the Terressen knot over his heart to the dips of tattooed muscle at his side to the spiraling scar through his shoulder where that arrow had gone through.

Blocking out the memory, Sam buckled his leathers into place before pulling his golden hair back, revealing the freckles splayed across his nose and cheekbones. Eyes going to the scars peeking out past his shoulders, he shut down the memory of being whipped so fast it nearly choked him. He readjusted his leathers, blocking the scars from his vision and he started to breathe again. He didn’t need to get trapped in that nightmare. Not now. He turned from his mirror abruptly and lowered the temperature instantly, before he ended up burning down Ornyth.

Examining the collection of hunting blades on his desk, Sam selected a few before strapping them to his thighs and slid one in his boot. He had sheathed his sword at his back when his ear pricked at the noise behind him.

Looking behind him, Sam found the ten-year-old twins standing in his doorway, waiting for him to let them in. He raised his brows and Samaentha barreled into him, nearly dropping him to the ground. “Nice to see you too, Sammi.” She buried her face in his chest.

Connaellie pushed her golden hair back behind her rounded ear, sighing. “Sammi, you  _got_ to stop attacking people.” Sam chuckled as Samaentha stuck out her tongue at her twin. Rolling her eyes, Connaellie stalked through the room and hugged him. “We missed you, Sam.”

Sam’s heart swelled as he pulled apart from the twins. He readjusted the blades at his thighs, making sure they didn’t prick the girls during the hug. “How was Pernnath? Elide? Declan?”

Samaentha’s nose scrunched as she crossed her arms. “Babies are so  _boring_. They can’t  _do_  anything.” Sam snorted. “I wanted to come home the next day but nooo. I had to stay because  _someone_  wanted to explore the mountains.” She held up her arm; the golden skin scabbed from wrist to elbow; there was a good chance it would scar. “I almost  _died_.”

Connaellie gaped at her sister. “You can’t be  _serious_. Are you actually blaming me for you being a fool?” She turned to him, her lips pursed. “She tried winnowing through the mountains and almost fell off a ledge for not looking where she was going.” She glared at her sister. “That isn’t  _my_ fault you inept witch.”

Sam listened to the ten-year-olds argue back and forth as they walked through the halls towards the kitchens. Eyes trained on the feather in his hand, Sam’s fingers trailed it’s spine as they approached and found Emrys and Luca bickering and peeling potatoes.

He made way for their table as the twins bee-lined for the pantry and pulled up a stool. Trading his feather for a knife and potato, Sam got to work on peeling. Emrys looked at him beneath furrowed brows. “What do you think you’re doing, Sam?”  _Distracting myself_.

He didn’t look up and finished peeling before dropping the pieces into the pot and grabbed another potato. “Helping.”

Sam sensed Luca and Emrys exchanging glances before Emrys sat his knife down and laced his fingers on the table, turning his kind eyes to him. “Don’t get me wrong Sam, I  _love_  having the extra help, but you only help out when you’re stressed or worried about something.”

Growing up, when things had gotten to be too much, he had hid in the kitchens, spending time with Emrys and Luca. Sam supposed in a way, Emrys had adopted him and let him stay and help. One would think that with all the time spent in the kitchen, he would have developed some ability to cook. Instead he could barely boil water. Ironic considering who he was.

“Plus you can’t cook,” Luca added. Emrys shot him a look and Luca’s face heated. “No offense, my prince.” Shaking his head, Emrys muttered to himself and went back to peeling.

“Oh  _really_ , I hadn’t noticed,” Sam glared. Luca smiled sheepishly and Sam sat down the knife. Folding his arms on the wooden table, Sam dropped his head into them and sighed painfully. “I have to train with Ciel.”

Exchanging glances with Emrys, Luca dropped more potatoes in the pot with a sly smile. “And that’s a  _bad_  thing?” Sam’s face heated.

“ _No_ ,” Sam mumbled, brushing the loose strands of golden hair from his face. “But I’d rather not be around Ciel when he’s flirting with anything with a pulse.” Luca choked on laughter and he started coughing. Emrys patted his back before giving Sam a pitying smile. “And he’ll be here for a while, so I’ll most likely be hiding when I’m not training.”     

“You know you’re always welcome in my kitchen, yes?” Emrys said. Sam nodded. Emrys smiled kindly, motioning to the potatoes. “Go ahead.”        

* * *

 Castle lining up in Ciel’s vision, he started to remember the last time he had been in Terressen. The scouting mission, the arrow, the blood, the snap he felt so deep in his soul. Ciel leaned back in the saddle, the memory already forming in his mind before he could stop it.

* * *

_Time slowed as Ciel watched Sam’s flames flicker out. A loud snap vibrated through him and his ears as an arrow pierced the air and shot through Sam’s shoulder, spilling red blood down his chest. Ciel scream as Sam dropped to his knees, his head hitting the earth._

_Mate._

_Mate._

_Mate._

_Sam was-_

_He whirled around, his eyes snapping on the archer. The witch lowered her bow and raised her chin, her dark eyes defiant and on him. She is one of_ his _people, one of_ his _subjects-_

_Red coated his vision and he sent out his magic, invisible hands holding her in place as he stalked towards her. His claws grew and he pierced her skin with a raised chin and wrapped his fingers around her beating heart. Her screams filled his ears as he pulled it out, crushing it in his hand, blue blood coating his claws and fingers and arm. Everything._

_He watched the life die from her eyes and he turned and ran to Sam. His mate’s eyes fluttered and Ciel retracted his claws and placed his hand on Sam’s face. He felt tears fall onto his face as Sam’s fluttering eyes looked up to him, glazed with unbridled pain. “Ciel?”_

_“No,” Ciel sobbed, his blood crusted hand smoothing down Sam’s hair. “No, no. Sam, hang on. Okay? Just hang_ on _.” Ciel’s fingers framed his mate’s face as tears mixed with blue blood and spilled down his cheeks. “Don’t sleep, Sam. Don’t sleep.” Ciel touched Sam’s forehead with his own. “Stay awake. Please._ Please _.”_

* * *

Ciel blinked back the tears pricking his eyes as Abraxos lowered from the sky to the clearing outside the Oakwald Forest; a silver haired female waiting for him. Ciel’s face split into a shaky smile as Abraxos touched down.

Unmounting from his wyvern, Ciel pulled Lyria into a hug, kissing her temple. “Gotten busted for any illegal fighting since the last time I saw you?” His voice came out cracked.

Pulling apart from him, Lyria’s pine green eyes were filled alarm. “What’s wrong?” He inhaled sharply and shook his head, smiling. Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing. “I’ve been a perfect lady,” Lyria said haughtily. She brushed her silver braid over her shoulders and batted her eyelashes at him. He snorted, the suspicion starting to ebb from her eyes.

She didn’t know about the bond and he wanted to keep it that way. It would be the first secret he kept from her; But if Sam didn’t know, then she wouldn’t either.

Ciel slung his arm over her shoulders as they made way to the castle through the Oakwald Forest and the gardens. “Ria, there is  _nothing_  lady-like about you.” He cocked his head, grinning down at her. “Other than the obvious.”

She scoffed, smacking his chest. “ _Rude_.”

Lyria shook her head and wrapped her arm around him, her fingers thrumming at his side as she side-glanced him and started to slowly smile. Ciel craned his neck, looking down at her with raised brows. “What’s with that face?”

Lyria hummed loudly. “Sam’s the one you’re training with while you’re here. He got in trouble and now has to train with you. ” Ciel blinked then smiled broadly. He usually trained with Lyria. Getting Sam to train with him was like pulling teeth. Lyria side-glanced him, her lips curling up into a smirk. “You’re painfully obvious, you know that?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Ciel said loftily, his chin raised. Lyria burst out laughing as he winked at the fae guards, who exchanged glances and smirked as they walked past. It truly was unfair that there were so many ridiculously good-looking people in the Terressen Court. “Speaking of my favorite brooding Princeling, where is your brother? I’m assuming the kitchen?”

Lyria moved in front of him, walking backwards with her arms crossed. “Oh no you don’t. You are getting settled and then spending time with me  _before_  you start gawking at my twin brother.”

 “I do not  _gawk_ ,” Ciel retorted, a hand to his chest. “I  _gaze._ ” He could hear the fae guards laughing from where he was. “There’s a difference.”

 Lyria flipped around, her silver braid swishing down her back as she danced up ahead, twirling around in her fighting leathers. “No there’s not!” Ciel sighed and followed after the Crown Princess of Terressen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Rowan’s shoulders relaxed, his gaze softening towards his son. He uncrossed his arms and grinned at his wife, his pine green eyes crinkling. “Fireheart, you were worse.” The Queen scoffed and smacked his chest. He looked to his son then to him. “Why don’t you two head in and get cleaned up? You’ve done enough for today and you’re filthy.” He paused. “Sam.” He looked up. “Good work.” Sam nodded.
> 
> Rowan and Aelin leaving, Ciel looked down at his leathers and rose his brows. He was covered in dirt, parts of his leathers singed, showing his tanned skin in places. He looked up to see Sam’s gaze focused on the holes in his leathers. His eyes slid to his, wide. “I’m sorry.”
> 
> Ciel shrugged and slid his cloak around his shoulders and clasped it into place. “Don’t worry about it.” Sam still frowned and Ciel touched his arm; His skin was hot. “Hey, they’re just leathers.” Sam met his gaze, unsure. “Now if it were my hair then we’d have a problem.” Sam gave him a flat stare and Ciel sighed, squeezing Sam’s forearm. “I’m fine, Princeling. I swear it. You didn’t burn me.”

Sam stalked through the clearing, the sun beating down on him. His fire crackled in his veins as he moved on. He cast his eyes to the sky, willing the sun to take back his flames. He didn’t want them. They were too bright, too destructive and he didn’t want to worry about making someone a living sunspot.

He sighed through his nose as he got to the meeting place, looking around the expansion of grass. Ciel Blackbeak Havilliard was nowhere to be found. Of course not, Gods forbid he didn’t make grand entrance. It was annoying.

 He had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes before the scent of iron and frost and jasmine filled his nose. It nearly dropped him to his knees. Shaking his head, Sam turned around to see Ciel coming through the clearing, his red cloak and dyed black hair bristling in the wind. He crossed his arms, glaring at him. “You’re late, Witchling.”

Ciel’s face split into a grin as he swaggered towards him, tying back his hair with a strap of leather, showing his high cheekbones and tanned throat. Sam’s mouth went dry. Ciel arched a brow and bowed dramatically. “I apologize, Princeling. I’m here now.”

  He wasn’t impressed. Sam pulled the strap of leather from his wrist and twisted his hair into a braid and tied it back behind him. Ciel’s eyes followed Sam’s hair falling behind him before meeting his gaze. “Would it kill you to show up on time?”

“It might.” Sam rolled his eyes, Ciel’s grin grew wider. Fingers going to the clasp, Ciel removed his cloak, showing the pure black leathers hugging his skin. Sam swallowed and Ciel’s hand rested lazily on his sword, his mismatched eyes lit with wicked amusement. “I would just  _hate_  to rob you of a grand entrance, Sam.” He sighed.  _Typical._  

Sam rolled his shoulders before resting his fingers on the hilt of the dagger at his thigh. It would take just a flick of his wrist to have it sent at Ciel. Sam mused if the Witchling was fast enough to block him. “Weapons or magic?”

 He assessed Sam with cunning eyes before his smile turned edged, his eyes pinned on him with predatory accuracy. Sam grinned wolfishly as Ciel’s iron claws grew. “Why not both?”

 Without warning and a flick of his wrist, Sam sent the dagger towards Ciel. The blade cut through the air and Ciel turned and grabbed the weapon and sent it back at him. Sam spun out of the way, the blade melting through his blue flame.

 Ciel struck. Sam turned at last minute, Ciel’s iron claws slicing through the air, missing him entirely. “You got to be faster than that, Ciel.”

  Ciel bared his teeth, grinning, his iron claws glittering in the sunlight as he circled him. “You’ve been practicing, Princeling. I thought you got in trouble for missing too much training.”

Sam kicked out, hitting Ciel square in the diaphragm. Ciel fell backwards, rolling into a crouch. Sam palmed two blades and grinned darkly at him, circling him. “I may miss training but I’m just as good a fighter as Lyria.” It was in his blood. Fighting came as easily to him as breathing. “I just prefer to read.”

Ciel’s grin was purely predatorial as his eyes blazed with something Sam couldn’t place. Ciel launched himself at Sam, ice flinging out, spiraling at him. Sam held up an arm, a shield of invisible flame melting the ice and he turned, narrowly missing Ciel’s claws. Ciel turned, walking backwards, crafting a staff of ice. Ciel quirked a brow. “You just keep surprising me, Princeling.” Sam’s heart shuddered and he chided himself. Ciel flirted with everyone; he wasn’t special. Why would he be?

Sam rotated his wrists, his blades glinting in the sun as he and Ciel circled each other. Ciel launched himself at him, the end of his staff going for Sam’s knees. Sam dropped to the ground, missing being cut off.

Sam pulled Ciel’s ankle out from beneath him, dropping him flat on his back, his staff misted by Ciel’s raw magic. Sam got to his feet and looked down at Ciel. Ciel threw an arm over his eyes, blocking the sunlight, and looked up at him. Sam held out a hand, grinning. “Need a hand?”

Before he could stop it, Ciel’s ankle wrapped around his and pulled him off balance. Sam twisted, landing on his hands and knees. Sam turned to see Ciel already on his feet, giving him a cheeky grin. He held out his hand. “Do  _you_?”

Sam stared up at his hand for a split second before sliding his gaze toward Ciel’s mismatched eyes. He took his hand and stood, sliding his blades back in their sheathes. He looked down at Ciel. He had nearly five inches on the Witchling. He felt his lips quirk to the side. “Tie?”

Ciel looked up at him, his eyes searching. Sam didn’t know what he was looking for but Ciel’s face split into a wide grin, lighting up his blue and gold eyes. “Tie.”

* * *

Ciel could see something shutter in Sam’s eyes, a lingering question in them. Sam retracted his hand and smoothed down his pants, his throat bobbing. Sam sighed sharply before turning his eyes back to him, looking directly at him. He was silent for a handful of heartbeats before, “Why haven’t you been back since the scouting mission?” Ciel blinked and then blinked again. Sam’s gold-rimmed eyes shaded with worry. “Did I do something?”

 _What?_ Did he do something? Sam could light him on fire and he’d thank him. Ciel shook his head, putting his hand on Sam’s forearm; the Princeling’s skin warm beneath his fingers. His mate’s eyes flicked down to Ciel’s hand before meeting his eyes again, something warring on his face, his lips tugging down. “ _Sam_ -“

Ciel was cut off as the Queen and King Consort of Terressen came through the clearing. Ciel removed his hand as Queen Aelin’s eyes went from them to the clearing around them. He and Sam inclined their heads as her eyebrows rose and she whistled. “Wow, you did a number on the grass.”

 Sam’s face flushed as his father’s pine green eyes surveyed the charred grounds. It was only then did Ciel realize how far their magic got out. King Rowan crossed his arms and frowned. “You decimated nearly half a mile of terrain.”

Sam looked down and swallowed, muttering an apology. Ciel looked from him to Queen Aelin then to Rowan, his eyes narrowing and frowned as he crossed his arms. The queen looked from him to Sam and quirked an eyebrow before merely elbowing her husband and mate. “Come on, Buzzard. We were just as bad, once upon a time.”

King Rowan’s shoulders relaxed, his gaze softening towards his son. He uncrossed his arms and grinned at his wife, his pine green eyes crinkling. “Fireheart, you were worse.” The Queen scoffed and smacked his chest. He looked to his son then to him. “Why don’t you two head in and get cleaned up? You’ve done enough for today and you’re filthy.” He paused. “Sam.” He looked up. “Good work.” Sam nodded.

Rowan and Aelin leaving, Ciel looked down at his leathers and rose his brows. He was covered in dirt, parts of his leathers singed, showing his tanned skin in places. He looked up to see Sam’s gaze focused on the holes in his leathers. His eyes slid to his, wide. “I’m sorry.”

Ciel shrugged and slid his cloak around his shoulders and clasped it into place. “Don’t worry about it.” Sam still frowned and Ciel touched his arm; His skin was hot. “Hey, they’re just leathers.” Sam met his gaze, unsure. “Now if it were my hair  _then_ we’d have a problem.” Sam gave him a flat stare and Ciel sighed, squeezing Sam’s forearm. “I’m fine, Princeling. I swear it. You didn’t burn me.”

Sam exhaled almost imperceptibly, his eyes going to his hand still on his forearm. His brows furrowed. Ciel let go and Sam looked directly at him, his gold-rimmed eyes unguarded and pinning him in place. “Why haven’t you been back? Is it because I got hurt?” His own screams filled his ears; that arrow going through Sam’s shoulder, Sam dropping to the ground, falling unconscious. The pure terror Ciel had felt, sometimes he could still feel it and the snap. Ciel shut down the memory so fast it nearly choked the air out of his lungs. “It wasn’t your fault, Ciel. The witch was a rogue.”

Ciel swallowed and gripped Sam’s forearms, the tattooed skin warm against his hands. Sam always did run warmer than most. Sam was close enough Ciel could see the different shades of blue and gold streaking in his eyes and the long pale lashes that framed them. The scent of embers and firewood and vanilla filled his nose, nearly dropping him to his knees. Gods, he was so  _pretty_. Ciel mused at how easy it would be to pull Sam down to his lips.

He squeezed Sam’s forearms, his mate’s pulse racketed beneath his fingers. He  _had_ partly been avoiding Sam because of the witch hurting him. She was  _his_ responsibility, one of  _his_  people and she shot  _his_  mate through the shoulder. Inches more and it would have gone through his heart. And Ciel didn’t know what he would have done if Sam died. He would have let Lyria carve out his heart; it would have hurt less than living in a world without someone as bright as Sam Galathynius.

“I’ve just been busy, Sam,” Ciel lied. “Crown Prince and all that.” Sam’s brows inched together, his gaze searching. Sam hated liars but he couldn’t tell him, not yet. When Sam nodded, Ciel threw his arm around his shoulder as they headed back to the castle. “Let’s head in, I need new clothes. And food. Lots of food.” Sam snorted.

* * *

Lyria leaned back against her chair, her arm thrown over the back, watching as her twin came from his rooms, his golden hair still damp from bathing, new pale green tunic and pants hugging his body, a hawk feather braided into his hair. She could almost feel Ciel’s attention focusing intently on her brother as he took a drink from his goblet; she nearly snorted. If Sam wasn’t so oblivious, he would see Ciel eye-fucking him.

Her twin sat in the chair in front of her and brought out his book before running his braid behind his pointed ear. He dug into the chair and opened it, checking out of the conversation going on around him. Lyria leaned forward, resting on her elbows, her eyes sliding down the table to her mother.

Her mother took a drink from her goblet, her eyes lit with wicked amusement as she watched Sam read and Ciel watch him intently while listening to whatever her father was saying. She sat the goblet down and opened her mouth. But before she could speak, the doors blew open and Lorcan Salvaterre Lochan and his daughter, Marion, came through.

Marion shot her a warning look and she stood, her fingertips coated in ice. Sam and Ciel followed suit, as did her parents. Lorcan rested the palms of his hands on the table, looking between them all. “A rebel unit of witches have amassed in the west. Right on the boarder of the Anascaul Mountains.”

A low growl tore from Ciel. Lyria turned to see her friend’s eyes blazing, his hands in tight fists, knuckles white. She glanced at her twin, Sam was watching Ciel for his reaction. “Have they breached your lands,” Ciel said, coldly. “Does my mother know?”

 Marion’s eyes near glowed, her magic feeding her Ciel’s emotions. Lorcan turned his onyx eyes to Ciel, his face granite. “They have not yet breached and your mother knows, but there aren’t any patrols out there. It would take time we don’t have to wait for the Thirteen to gather.”

 Ciel’s jaw clenched, thunderstorms rolling in his upturned eyes as he turned to her parents. “I beg your permission to allow the Twins and I to go and dissolve the threat.” Sam’s face hardened and he crossed his arms and nodded. “I was sent here to learn from the fae, but these witches are my responsibility and I can’t go alone. I need Sam and Lyria.”

Their mother’s face was unmovable stone, the only reaction from her was the brightening of the sconces and the rising flames of the fireplace. Her father placed his hand on her lower back but Queen Aelin didn’t relent. “Absolutely  _not_.”

Sam slammed his hands down on the table and turned to her, his face just as harsh as hers, if not more so. “These are our lands, Lyria and I are the sovereign rulers of Terressen, right after you and Father and you cannot just up and leave Ornyth defenseless. So let. Us.  _Go._ ” Sam’s lips tightened. “Let us protect our people.” The sconces burned brighter.

Their mother turned her eyes to her brother, her hands braced on the dining table. “You’re still recuperating, Sam, and it would be a liability to anyone involved. Not to mention hinder your healing.”

 “That’s rutting  _bullshit_  and you  _know it_ ,” Sam snapped, his eyes living flame. Their mother arched her brows at her brother’s tone. Sam’s temper was just as bad as their mothers, of not more so. “I can fight  _just_  as well as the lot of you. And I’m healed enough to take care of a group of witches with bad manicures. Lyria and I are the strongest fae in Erilea, not to mention, Ciel has Dorian’s raw magic.” Ciel’s face was frozen, his arms crossed over his chest. “And Lyria and I are Carranam. If all else fails, we’ll decimate them all.”

 Lyria nodded, bracing her own hands on the table, staring down her parents. “The three of us are a small enough group that we can go undetected through the rural villages and towns of the mountain pass.” She nodded towards her twin. “The boys have rounded ears and will be able to seamlessly move through them. I can fly ahead if need be.”

Sam stood and raised his chin, his golden hair falling past his shoulders. “It’s the logical choice. Anyone else and it will alert the witches and will cause more harm than good.”

Sam and their mother stared each other down; golden wrath and righteousness, unwilling to bend to the other as heat pulsed through the room, beading Lyria’s forehead with sweat, her hair damp and limp, hanging from her. Lyria watched as the sconces burned brighter and brighter, neither her mother or brother yielding to the other. The fireplace flames rose, turning from red to gold to blue. The heat choked the oxygen from the air, making it harder and harder to breath. 

Sam did not falter, his harsh face staying directly on their mother’s. He would not,  _could not_  back down from this. These were his people as much as their mother’s. He would do everything to protect them. Ciel stared at Sam, his mismatched eyes wide, filled with something Lyria knew all too well.

Finally, their mother stood straight, her face harsh, and turned her head to face Ciel. Her gold-rimmed eyes glowed with a world ending brutal promise, her voice shattered ice. “If you do not come back with my children, do not come back at all.” Just like that, the heat died down, oxygen returning to the air; Sam’s shoulders relaxed, his eyes dimmed down from the unearthly glow. He was Sam again.

 Ciel’s gaze tore from Sam to her mother and he placed two fingers to his brow and bowed his head, his black hair falling at his shoulders. He looked between them all before resting his eyes on Sam. “I would sooner Yield myself than leave without either of them.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sighed, putting his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Lyria,” he chided. “You are literally a rutting bird. How on earth are you still afraid of heights?” She couldn’t be afraid. Not now; not when that fear would make her useless in a fight.
> 
> She crossed her arms and growled at him. Good. Good to make her angry instead of afraid. That way she made her fear into a blade instead of letting it paralyze her. Sam merely rose a brow at her as she snapped at him, “Easy for you to say, Sam. It wasn’t you who flew into a wall, falling thirty feet into a forest.” Ciel’s brows shot up. She shot him an icy glare. “Not a word from you, Mister I-Got-Caught-With-My-Pants-Down-In-My-Parent’s-Bedroom.” Sam snorted and shook his head. Of course Ciel got caught fucking someone in his parents rooms.
> 
> Ciel opened his mouth then promptly closed it. “Fair enough.” She smirked; Sam face-palmed and sighed deeply. Rolling his head towards Abraxos, Ciel sighed as Abraxos huffed, sounding unnervingly like a snort. “Care to give us a lift, Brax? Got a few heads to pike, little time to do it.”

Lyria stalked down the hall, her magic radiating around her in a lethal cloud of ice. She almost paused when she felt the presence of someone coming up behind her. Lyria squared her shoulders. “Don’t bother asking, Artemis. The answer is no.”

Her cousin caught up to her, his dark hair bouncing off the back of his red leather jacket. He side-glanced her, his hands clasped behind his back. “Is it true? There are witches trying to evade?”

Lyria stopped abruptly, pulling Artemis in front of her. She looked down at her cousin. His eyes gleamed. Her lips thinned. “Yes it’s true.” Artemis opened his mouth before Lyria cut him off. “I said no. It’s an order, Artie. You stay here.”

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. “That isn’t fair. My father was doing shit like this before he was my age!”

 “ _Life_ isn’t fair,” Lyria shot back. “And that was when there was a war and he didn’t have a choice. He was forced to fight. You aren’t.”

“Lyria,  _please_ ,” Artemis spread his arms. “I  _want_  to fight! I am stronger  _and_  faster than he was! You know I’m right.” Lyria crossed her arms, staring down her cousin. Artemis squeezed her arm. “Please, Ria.”

“I said no,” Lyria said. “It is an order from your Crown Princess.” His eyes narrowed and frost coated her fingertips, traveling up her arms. “If you so much as try to come with us, I will  _personally_  lock you in your rooms.” Artemis blinked and Lyria relaxed her shoulders, willing her magic to subside. “This is already a dangerous mission without having to take a fourteen-year-old with us.”

“Sam was hurt and _he’s_  still going,” Artemis said, stubbornly.

Lyria pinched the bridge of her nose and counted to ten before exhaling. “First, Sam is twenty-two years old, not  _fourteen_. Second, Sam has the queen’s fire magic. Third, I said  _no_  and that is final.” Artemis growled and stalked off down the opposite hall. Lyria watched her cousin go before going the rest of the way to her rooms.

* * *

Ciel’s aura shifted from his normal yellow to muddy red to the darkest of blacks as he stalked down the hallway. Marion followed after her friend, twisting her black hair with her hands, as she read his emotions; each dialed to rage and despair.

He pushed the doors to his rooms wide open and stormed through the space, his red cloak bristling. Marion could see his defined back lined with tension as he readied himself. She touched his shoulder, her magic slipping through him. “ _Relax_ ,” she murmured.

His shoulders relaxed and he exhaled slowly, his aura returning almost back to normal. He stiffened and shrugged out of her touch before turning to her, irritation etched in his features. “ _Don’t_  use your magic on me.” Her face flushed and she held up her hands. Ciel’s eyes softened a fraction. “I  _need_  to be angry, Marion. These witches keep hurting people and they need to be stopped.” Thunderstorms rolled in his eyes. “I am Crown Prince of the Witch Kingdom, it is my duty to eradicate them.”

Marion studied the smooth planes of Ciel’s harsh face, the promise of blood shed to protect his people blazed in his eyes, and squeezed his hands. “Make sure you come back, Ciel. Your family needs you as much as your people do.”

* * *

A knock sounded at Lyria’s doors and she turned to see Sam leaning against the doorframe, his arms and ankles crossed, radiating an aura of heat. “You ready? I’m sure Ciel is wearing a hole in the carpet waiting for us.”

Lyria pulled her pack over her shoulder and nodded, striding past her brother. Sam pushed off the doorframe and walked in step with her, his hands clasped behind his back.  She side-glanced her brother, Artemis’s words sounding in her head. “Are you sure-“

Sam grabbed her arm and stopped abruptly, swinging her to look at him. His eyes blazed bright as wildfire. “Ria. I am  _fine_. Perfectly healed.” She opened her mouth but promptly shut it and nodded when he glared at her.

He pulled at the collar of his tunic, showing her the spiraling scar at his shoulder, nearly three inches from his heart. “It was close. But it didn’t hit it. It hit nothing vital.” He shrugged his tunic back in place and smoothed it down. “Trust me to know my own limits, Lyria.” He pushed past her. “I trust you to know yours.”

She grabbed his arm. “Sam.” He turned to her, irritation flashing on his face. She lowered her hand. “I know, you know your limits. But you weren’t conscious when you were brought home. You don’t know the pure horror that was in Ciel’s face or the fear in my heart. And our  _parents-_ ” His blinked, caught off guard; she took a shuddering breath, squeezing his arm.

“You had lost  _so much blood_ , Sam. So much.” She felt tears prick the back of her eyes and she swallowed; her ice sluicing through her veins at the memory of seeing her brother nearly dead. “I thought I was going to lose my twin. I  _felt_  that arrow go through you and I lost control of my magic.” Just like when they were little. His eyes softened, no doubt remembering the same thing. 

“I went out of my mind because I thought you were  _dead_.” Gavriel had calmed her down, her ice covering every inch of the room, going so fast she nearly burnt out. She rose her chin. “So, you will have to forgive me, for asking, because I  _never_  want to feel that again. Never.”

He ran a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed, his gaze indirect. “I’m sorry you felt that, Lyria. But I can’t stay out of missions and wars out of fear of dying. We’re fae and royalty. It’s who we are in our blood and our people need us.” She dipped her head and nodded. He rubbed her arms in typical Sam fashion. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Sam walked in time with his sister, out to the gardens where Ciel waited for him. The male faced the sky with bright eyes, the moon shining on the elegant lines of his face as he turned to them. Ciel grinned, his smile not quite reaching his mismatched eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Sam crossed his arms and scoffed. “ _You_  just got out here, Witchling. We weren’t even five minutes behind you.”

Ciel hummed, his eyes lighting with amusement. “I don’t think I would mind having you behind me, Princeling.” Sam’s felt his pupils blow out, his face burning as a soft growl came from his throat. His twin doubled over and choked on laughter and he shot Ciel a poisonous glare. Ciel merely tipped his head tipped back and he sighed, chuckling lightly. “Oh, Sam. You’re so fun.” Sam bristled; he was not amused. Not even a little bit.

His hands went to his ears as Ciel brought two fingers to his mouth and he whistled, loudly. A minute later a thunderous boom sounded as Abraxos circled the air, lowering from the sky. Sam felt himself start to smile as the wyvern landed. He didn’t get to fly, not like his twin or father, but with Abraxos or Asterin’s wyvern, Kalani, he got to do the next best thing.

Ciel looked over his shoulder at Lyria, whose face was deathly pale. “What’s it going to be, Ice Princess? Flying or Abraxos?”

Lyria swallowed, looking between Abraxos and Ciel, dread etched on her face. “We- we’re flying?”

 Sam sighed, putting his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Lyria,” he chided. “You are literally a rutting  _bird_. How on earth are you still afraid of heights?” She couldn’t be afraid. Not now; not when that fear would make her useless in a fight.

She crossed her arms and growled at him. Good. Good to make her angry instead of afraid. That way she made her fear into a blade instead of letting it paralyze her. Sam merely rose a brow at her as she snapped at him, “Easy for you to say, Sam. It wasn’t you who flew into a wall, falling thirty feet into a  _forest_.” Ciel’s brows shot up. She shot him an icy glare. “Not a word from you, Mister I-Got-Caught-With-My-Pants-Down-In-My-Parent’s-Bedroom.” Sam snorted and shook his head. Of course Ciel got caught fucking someone in his parents rooms.

Ciel opened his mouth then promptly closed it. “Fair enough.” She smirked; Sam face-palmed and sighed deeply. Rolling his head towards Abraxos, Ciel sighed as Abraxos huffed, sounding unnervingly like a snort. “Care to give us a lift, Brax? Got a few heads to pike, little time to do it.”

Sam looked at Lyria. “Your wings or his?”

Lyria inhaled sharply before looking between him and Ciel. “I’ll scout ahead. If you hear me caw, it’s safe.” A bright light shifted around her and she shifted into a falcon, her brown feathers gleamed in the moonlight as she flew ahead, keeping to the tree-line, hidden from aerial threats.

* * *

Ciel mounted Abraxos and looked down at Sam. The male rested his hand on the wyvern’s nose, splaying his fingers. Abraxos pushed into it and Sam beamed, his smile wide enough to show his elongated cainines, his skin luminescent in the moonlight. “I missed you too, my friend.” The last time Abraxos saw Sam, Sam had been unconscious and bleeding. The wyvern had flown far and fast, Death chasing after them.

Ciel leaned down and offered him a hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Their calloused palms brushed each other as Sam took it as Ciel pulled him up behind him.  Sam’s hands laced around Ciel’s waist, his skin scorching over his shirt. “Running a little warm, Sam,” Ciel purred, thrumming his fingers against Sam’s wrist. “There a particular reason for it?”

 He could feel Sam’s glare pinpointed at the back of his head. “Shut your rutting  _mouth_ , you  _prick_ ,” Sam growled, readjusting himself. Ciel smiled widely, pulling Sam’s arms tighter around him. Ciel could feel Sam’s pulse racing beneath his skin, his breath ragged against his neck. “Let’s go.”

Ciel leaned forward, touching Abraxos’s mottled skin. The Wyvern let out a loud screech- Sam’s hands flew to his ears- and extended his wings before lifting off. A soft exhale came from Sam as they reached into the sky. He could imagine Sam’s eyes closed, letting the wind race through his hair and brush across his skin. It truly was a shame that someone who loved to fly so much didn’t have wings of their own. Perhaps that explained Sam’s obsession with feathers.

* * *

Aelin watched as Abraxos lifted into the night sky. She could see her son’s golden hair from where she was. She felt arms wrap around her, a chin resting on her shoulder as they watched their children fly off into the night.

She ran a hand around her husband’s neck, trying to fight through the tightening of her throat as she swallowed. Rowan’s lips brushed the shell of her ear and whispered, “They’ll return, Fireheart.” Her heart fractured and he squeezed her tighter.

Aelin sent up a wave of flame, her fire dancing across the sky in a wave of gold and red and blue, giving her children a message.  _Come home to me._

* * *

Sam looked behind him, towards his parent’s balcony. His mother’s unbound golden hair blew in the wind, her flames reaching the heavens. He’s own flames went up, answering her message. He hoped it would relax her, let her know they were going to be okay.

Ciel pulled Sam’s arms back around him, tightening his grip. “Careful Sam, I wouldn’t want you to fall.”  Sam glared at the purr in Ciel’s voice and laced his fingers together, trying to not react to the lean muscle of Ciel’s stomach as he leaned forward rubbing Abraxos’s mottled skin.

He exhaled slowly, willing the heat to not rise further in his face or arms. He didn’t need Ciel to start making it worse with his innuendos. It was already hard enough to restrain himself around the Witchling, he didn’t need to lose it and bite him. The grip on his self-control was slowly unraveling, making it harder and harder to be around him.

* * *

Sam was willing to do whatever it would take to make sure his twin and friend would return home and that his country would remain safe, even if it meant not coming home himself; even if it meant never seeing his family again.

He hoped it didn’t come to that. He hoped they would return unscathed and whole. But he had the feeling the Dark God would make him pay in one way or another. And he would do it. For his friends, his family, his country, Sam was willing to pay it all. 


	4. Chapter 4

After two days of straight flying, Ciel had Abraxos land on the edge of the city. Sam unmounted first, taking his and Lyria’s packs, and walked through the trees as Ciel got down from the wyvern and grabbed his own. It would seem two days of teasing Sam ended with Sam ready to knock his head off his shoulders.

Ciel chuckled under his breath and rested his hand on Abraxos’s snout, splaying his fingers. The wyvern pushed into it and Ciel smiled. “We’re going to be here for a few days. Why don’t you go keep yourself hidden?”

Abraxos nodded and spread his wings and lifted into the air. A presence came up behind him and he turned to find Lyria standing there with her head tilted and arms crossed. “You got to stop doing that to Sam. He’s either going to fuck you or kill you and I really don’t want to have to explain to your parents that you were killed by Sam for your constant teasing. There is a line, you know.”

Ciel unclasped his cloak and folded it up, smiling at his friend. “But it’s so fun seeing Sam get worked up.” Lyria wrapped her arm around him and sighed painfully. “Don’t worry, Ria. He’ll be fine.”

“Oh, trust me,” Lyria said as they waked through the trees. “It’s not him I’m worried about. You keep going and he’s going to light you on  _fire_.” Ciel snorted and Lyria rested her head on his shoulder. “And I will be sad and cry because then I’ll have to break in a new best friend when you are nothing more than smoldering ash.”

Ciel smiled and thrummed his fingers at her waist. “Your sentiment is touching, Ice Princess.” They got further into the trees and found Sam leaning against a tree, his arms and ankles crossed, looking between them, his face carefully blank.

Ciel’s eyebrows rose slowly and Sam’s eyes went to his sister, completely ignoring him. “Ciel and I will go to one of the more populated bars and gather intel tonight. Why don’t you shift and stick to listening in on conversations?”

Lyria pulled off him and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Well, it’s either that or sit in the middle of a forest tending to camp.” Despite having fae rule their country, the people of Brittia did not take kindly to them in their city. “What are we doing until then?”

Sam shrugged. “Do whatever you want, I’m gathering firewood.” Sam looked between the two of them before resting his eyes on him. “ _Alone_.”

 A light surrounded Sam and he shifted, taking his human form; Round ears and all. Lyria looked between the both of them and shot him an  _I told you so_  look as Sam walked through the trees, his shoulders tense.

Ciel exhaled and looked at Lyria and said under his breath, “Okay you were right.” Lyria threw up her hands and shook her head. Ciel splayed his arms. “I’m sorry! I just like seeing Sam riled up.”

Lyria stalked over to him and stared up at him, her gaze searching and cool. “Ciel Blackbeak Havilliard, if you do not stop teasing my brother I will freeze your balls off and you can live castrated for the rest of your very, very long life.”

Blood drained from Ciel’s face and he held up his hands. “Lyria Galathynius that may very well be one of the cruelest things you have ever said to me.”

She rose her brows and pressed a frost-lined finger to his chest, the bitter cold bit into his skin. “I mean it. You don’t stop- no children will ever be sired to you.” She leaned back, a finger to her lips, studying him. “Although with you, Gods know I could be too late.”

Despite himself, Ciel burst out laughing. Lyria’s lips quirked to the side, in attempt to stop smiling herself. She pushed him. “Stop laughing! I’m serious!”

* * *

Sam stalked through the forest, trying to calm the frenzy in his blood. He had hoped his human form would take off the brunt of his instincts- less hearing, less smell, less everything- but it hadn’t done much. His teeth still ached.

Sam pulled a strap of leather from his wrist and twisted his hair into a bun on the top of his head as he walked and picked up sticks. After half an hour of picking up firewood Sam made it back to camp. Ciel and Lyria sat up against a tree, sleeping.

 Sam sat the wood down as quietly as he could and came up to them, merely inches from their face before bringing two fingers to his lips and whistling, loudly. Both nearly jumped out of their skin and glared at him. Frost traveled up the tree behind Lyria.

Sam snorted derisively. “You two idiots fell asleep. So much for keeping guard.” He crossed his arms, looking between the two. “What would have happened if I were a witch?”

Ciel stood and smiled slowly at him, his eyes glinting. “I don’t know, Sam. What would have happened?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he swallowed a growl, refraining from pushing Ciel against the tree. He’d probably make  _that_  sexual to. “Stop making everything an innuendo, you ass.” Sam turned to Lyria, completely ignoring Ciel’s widening smile. “Ciel and I are going to head into town. Why don’t you fly ahead? I need to change.” Males tended to talk more the prettier he looked.

When Lyria flew ahead, Sam went to his pack and pulled his tunic off. He heard a sharp intake and he turned to see Ciel staring at his back. The male swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “Years later and they still look horrific.”

Sam blocked out the memory so fast the air choked in his lungs. He exhaled slowly, meeting Ciel’s mismatched eyes. “That’s what happens when an eleven year old gets whipped.” Ciel’s eyes fractured and Sam turned back around, pulling one of the fine tunics from his pack and running a finger across the fine material. “After that assassination attempt, Father had been adamant about me being trained.” He looked back at Ciel. “I will always have a target on my back; so will the ones I love.” -so will  _you_ \- “I am the Fire-Bringer’s son and I have her flames. It’s just another reason to not want them.”

Ciel strode over to him, placing his hand on Sam’s forearm and looked up at him. HIs gaze was solemn and searching; no sign of the arrogant smirk that was usually plastered on his face. “I understand, Sam.” Sam swallowed, shifting his gaze away from Ciel’s eyes. “Not only am I a male witch, I am the Crochan Prince and I have raw magic. To a lot of witches, I am an abomination and unnatural and need to be exterminated.” Sam’s eyes widened in realization. He also was different than most. There wasn’t a word for what he was and some of the words that were used were bigoted and cruel.

Ciel squeezed Sam’s arm. He could still feel Ciel’s eyes on him. “We will always have targets on us, Sam. Always.” Ciel’s hand hovered between them and Sam looked from Ciel’s hand to his face. “But we can’t let that dictate our choices.” Ciel ran his hand through his hair. “Otherwise we’d be alone forever.”

Sam swallowed and pulled his tunic over his head, flipping his hair out of the collar and curled it behind his ear. Ciel looked at him for a heartbeat more before going to change also. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not that Ciel didn’t kiss him.

* * *

Lyria perched on the roof of the bar, watching her twin and Ciel swagger through the streets. Sam’s golden hair was brushed out, silken; his face plastered with a lazy smile, so unlike the exasperated look that usually rested on his features. Ciel’s black hair hung loose, his upturned eyes gleaming. They both wore impeccable clothes that would have anyone looking twice at them.

* * *

Ciel gave the woman a lazy smile, his eyes following Sam going up to the male eyeing him. Sam gave the male a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Ciel’s teeth clenched and he forced himself to look at the girl in front of him.

Ciel made himself run a loose strand behind her ear, listening to her prattle on about the town gossip. He waited for her to let something slip out the witches, to give him an opening to begin his line of questions without drawing too much attention to himself.

The girl blushed and kept talking. Finally, she said something interesting. “There have been disappearances. Parents are scared to let their children out of their homes.”

Ciel leaned forward on his elbows, shutting down the rage roiling in his veins. “Do they know who is responsible?”

The girl wrapped her arms around herself, shaking. Ciel rubbed her arms in comfort as she looked up at him and whispered. “The townspeople think there are witches nearby.”

Ciel did his best to appear shocked and a little afraid. “Where? You don’t think they’re in the city, do you?”

She shook her head, fear resting behind her dark eyes. And disgust. “They say that they’re a few miles south of here. A legion.”  _Bingo._ Her shoulders fell and she took a drink from her goblet, sniffling. “I don’t see why they have the need to hurt  _children_ of all people!”

He was inclined to agree with her; Children were precious and defenseless. Ciel found himself looking back to where Sam was standing with his man. But he wasn’t there; neither was the man he was with. A sharp piece of envy lodged itself in his throat and he nearly choked.

She looked at him beneath long dark lashes and a sultry smile. “Would you like to take this conversation elsewhere?”

Ciel tilted his head, looking at her. She was rather beautiful. Dark eyes, dark hair and a light spray of freckles. Usually he’d take a woman or man up on their offer but it felt wrong; especially when it was Sam’s face he saw when he closed his eyes. And with the people of this city and their hate of witches and fae, he wasn’t tempting the gods. Instead he leaned over and brushed her cheek with his lips. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to insist on a rain check.”

* * *

Ciel leaned against the bricked-out wall with arms and ankles crossed, waiting for Sam to return. Jealousy ran through him, had been building over the past few hours and he didn’t like it. Sam was the territorial one. Fae. Not him. Or so he thought.

The sky was starting to lighten with early morning colors but it was late enough that the sky still bled with stars and the moon. He had waited for what felt like hours for Sam to return and when he saw Sam walking down the alleyway, his hands in his pockets. Ciel straightened.

Sam came up to him, leaning against the opposite wall. “According to Jaime-“

“ _Jaime_?” Ciel blurted out. “ _You know his name?”_

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, perplexed. “Yes?” Ciel’s arms tightened. He felt a tic work in his jaw as Sam continued,” There have been disappearances for the past month. Children who have been abducted from streets, entire families slaughtered in their homes. Some have tried going into the mountains to retaliate but never return. Jamie said the few that had returned were shredded to pieces.” Sam paused and glared at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you fuck him for the information,” Ciel snapped, “Or was he just so  _eager_  to give you whatever you wanted?” Sam blinked and Ciel started to register what just came out of his mouth.  _Oh Gods._

Pushing off the wall, Sam came up to him, gazing down at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “No. I did not  _fuck him for the information_.” Sam crossed his arms. “And even if I  _did_ , it’s  _none_  of your rutting business what I do and who I do it with. Why the hell do you care anyways?”

“Because I’m fucking  _jealous_!” Ciel nearly snarled, his arms splayed out. Sam blinked. “I’m fucking jealous of how you were looking at  _him_  -“

Sam’s pupils blew out and he curled his fingers into Ciel’s buttoned shirt and pushed him backwards, pinning him against the bricked-out wall. Ciel swallowed and looked up at Sam. His mate looked at his lips and was close enough to see the pale lashes framing his narrowed eyes and the stark freckles splayed his flushed face. Sam’s mouth was pressed into a firm line, his breathing dense.

Ciel heard the low growl in Sam’s throat and he wondered if he had gone too far. If this was the line that Lyria warned him about. “Now you know how I feel,” Sam bit out and slammed his mouth on his, his hand snaking around Ciel’s lower back, pressing him against him. Ciel hesitated for half a second, surprise flooding through him, before hooking an arm around Sam’s neck, the other around his side, his nails biting into Sam’s back, and pushed back into the kiss.

 _Mine._ Sam was his. He was his mate and equal in every way and he was kissing him.

Sam’s hand pressed to Ciel’s chest, the heat of his skin seeped through his silk shirt, before sliding down to grip his hip and pressing himself flesh against Ciel. Ciel pulled apart for half a second and looked up at Sam, grinning. “About rutting  _time_ , Princeling.”

 “Shut  _up_ ,” Sam growled. His eyes glowed bright as a wildfire and he kissed him with a bruising force.

Sam pulled apart briefly, his gaze indirect as usual, his chest rising and falling in uneven beats. Ciel merely arched his neck, offering Sam his throat. He could have sworn his mate’s pupils somehow expanded even more, making his irises the smallest of slivers. Sam’s eyes darted between his face and the invitation Ciel was offering him. “Do it,” Ciel whispered.

* * *

Sam looked at the expansion of Ciel’s tanned throat. He could smell the arousal on Ciel. Even in his human form, his instincts were on overdrive as he kissed Ciel’s throat. He could feel Ciel’s heartbeat pounding beneath his lips.

Sam pulled on his leash with an iron-clad grip and made himself pull back, murmuring, “Are you sure?” He heard a breathless laugh from Ciel and he forced himself to meet the Witchling’s eyes in silent question.

“Do it, Sam,” Ciel whispered, his eyes lidded with lust-addled intensity. Ciel’s hand slip up from Sam’s chest to cup the back of his neck. “Bite me. You know you want to.” Ciel slowly smiled like an adder. “And you’ve wanted to for a while, haven’t you?” Gods,  _yes_. Yes, he had. Sam’s teeth ached so much that it drove nearly every rational thought from his head. “ _So, do it then_.”

His control snapped and Sam pushed Ciel further back into the wall. The Witchling’s eyes were bright as Sam’s hand pinned Ciel’s hip back. His free hand curled around Ciel’s neck as he kissed his throat. Sam shifted into his fae form; If he was going to bite him, he was going to bite him as fae. Where every sense was heightened.

Ciel gasped as Sam’s teeth sunk into his throat, his hand going up to find purchase in Sam’s hair, the other clawed down Sam’s back. Sam wondered if he had been bitten before but the thought was drowned out by the taste of blood filling his mouth and scent filling his nose.

A soft moan came from Ciel and Sam’s teeth sunk deeper. Sam braced his hand on the wall as more blood pulsed into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the puncture wounds, closing them with practiced ease.

Sam pressed his forehead to Ciel’s shoulder as he willed his heart to slow down. What was this? What were they? Why was Ciel affecting him so much? Was it because he was a witch? Because he was his friend? Was it because he was irrevocably in love with him? He didn’t know and he didn’t care.

Sam pulled himself away from Ciel, his eyes on the dark bruise on Ciel’s throat, at the teeth marks sinking into his skin. A deep primal part of him reveled at seeing Ciel marked by him. He stopped the grin on his face and ran a hand through his hair, not meeting Ciel’s eyes. “We need to go. We have a mission to complete.”

“ _Sam_ -“

Ciel’s hand brushed his check and Sam shifted back into his human form, making himself walk down the alley, out of Ciel’s touch. He didn’t bother waiting for Ciel to catch up. His head swam. Thought after thought slammed into him as he wiped the blue blood from his mouth and looked at it.  _What did I just do?_

* * *

Ciel’s claws slowly retracted as he watched Sam stalk down the alley. He hadn’t been bitten before and he hadn’t realized how aggressive Sam truly was. Gods he liked it. He liked it a lot.

He could see Sam’s deep cobalt tunic shredded in the back, showing Sam’s scars and red lines from his claws. He hadn’t even  _realized_ he had used them until he scented blood to begin with. Ciel tipped his head back against the wall and looked up to the sky, exhaling shakily.  _Rutting Hell_.

Finally catching his breath, Ciel pushed off the wall and readjusted his shirt, covering the bite mark and the blue blood. Gods forbid someone accidently see that he was a witch. Otherwise he’d wear the bruise where everyone could see it.

 Something snagging his eyes, Ciel turned to see a handprint burned into the wall, near where his head had been. Ciel’s lips slowly quirked to the side and he laughed under his breath. He shook his head and followed after Sam.

* * *

Lyria watched her twin stalk down the alleyway and Ciel follow. She had witnessed the entire exchange. Sam’s self-control had finally snapped it would seem. And the bewildered expression on her brother’s face had her wondering if Sam knew what he was doing. And the look on Ciel’s…

Lyria spread out her wings and flew towards camp. She would need to put the fear of the gods in Ciel before he broke her brother. And she would do it that night.

* * *

When Sam had made it into the thick of the forest, he shifted back into his fae form and pulled his ruined tunic off. His blood still frenzied and his fire crackled in his veins and he could still taste Ciel in his mouth. He had tasted like frost and Darkness. He tried blocking out the taste as he got to camp.

Just as he thought, Lyria was waiting there, leaning against a tree with her arms and ankles crossed. He ignored the look that told him she knew what he did and went to sit on the log in front of the unlit campfire. He pulled out a feather and ran a finger down its spine, willing his heart to stop pounding through every inch of him.

Minutes later he heard Ciel come through the trees. He heard Ciel sit across from him on the opposite log. He didn’t look at him. He looked at Lyria instead, his twin’s face unreadable as she sat on her log and looked at her unneat nails. “So,” she said loudly, “What have we learned?”

“What?” Ciel said, absentmindedly. “Oh. I found where they were.”

Sam’s head snapped up and he glared at him. “And you didn’t tell me earlier because..?” Instead the male had said those words and Sam had lost control. His eyes went to the bite covered up by Ciel’s shirt and he could taste Ciel’s blood again. Sam swallowed and looked away.

“Yes, Ciel,” Lyria said, looking up from her nails to Ciel with an innocent gaze. “Why didn’t you tell Sam earlier? Your tongue not working?” Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

“You really want me to answer that?” Ciel asked, glowering at Lyria. He must have come to the same conclusion he had. Lyria knew. “I don’t think you’d like the answer, Ice Princess.”

His sister shot him a  _try me_  look and Sam’s temper snapped and he threw a stick at Ciel after shooting Lyria a warning look. “Just tell us where it is, you prick.”      

Ciel caught it and smirked. “South. A few miles.” His eyes turned steely and harsh; every trace of earlier disappearing from his face. “It’s a legion.” So at least a thousand. Easily.

Sam began thinking through strategy after strategy before sitting straight, looking between his sister and friend. “We gather our strength tonight and go tomorrow. And when we get there, they die.”

* * *

**[That Night]**

Ciel watched Sam sleep. His mate’s face smoothed out and peaceful. He could still feel Sam’s lips on his, still feel Sam’s weight on him. He had tasted like embers and sunshine. He swallowed and looked over to Lyria watching him intently. The smirk that was always on her face gone, replaced by emotionless cold.

She stood, walking through the tree line, motioning for Ciel to follow. With a glance at Sam’s sleeping form, Ciel followed after his friend with anticipation running through his veins.

* * *

A mile from the camp site, Lyria turned, waiting for Ciel to catch up with her. When he did, she pushed him up against a tree. She looked him over. Her best friend stared at her, his face filled with an arrogance she saw right through.

Lyria rose her chin and she asked coldly, “How long have you known?”

Ciel rose a brow, a smirk ghosting his lips. “Known what?”

A low growl tore through her and ice coated her fingers. “You know what the rutting hell I’m talking about. How long have you known Sam was your mate?”

Ciel stared at her for a handful of heartbeats before dropping every ounce of arrogance from his face. “Since the scouting mission and the witch shot him through with that arrow.” Six  _months_.

She gripped Ciel’s arm with icy claws. “Sam is my brother. My twin and  _Carranam_. If you hurt him I will carve the heart from your chest,” she swore coldly. “It will kill me and damn me to Hellas’s realm but I’ll do it.” She pierced his skin, drawing blue blood, to get her point across. “Sam is special and he deserves someone special and if you hurt him, I will kill you without hesitation.”

If Ciel felt any pain or was surprised by her threat, it didn’t show on his face. His eyes were solemn and unguarded and on her. “If I hurt your brother, I’d want you to.”

She studied him, looking for any hint of a lie. Ciel had never lied to her before. Not once.  And he was her twin’s mate and her best friend. She let his arm go and thawed the ice from her fingers. “Do you love him?”

 _“Yes_ ,” he breathed. “So much.”

* * *

Sam stirred in his sleep. He felt as if a blanket had been thrown over his senses. Instinct tore through him and his eyes flew open. He was on his feet in seconds, his throwing knives in his hands. Witch after witch circled the camp with marks written on their skin with blood.

His heart dropped like a weight in his chest.  _Rutting Wyrdmarks_. Just what he needed. Sam stood straight, staring each witch down. “These lands belong to Queen Aelin Galathynius of Terressen not unruly nobody witches who need proper manicures. Get off our lands.”

A dark-haired witch snarled low in her throat and Sam flicked a knife at her. The blade cut through the air and embedded itself in her throat; a torrent of blood so blue it looked black spilled from her throat. She dropped to the ground, choking on blood before dying.

Witch after witch came at him, his body painted with blue blood with each he slayed. He maneuvered around each dead body, fighting. He drove his sword threw one’s throat and suddenly-

Darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let loose a groan as he blinked his eyes open, the edges of his vision tinged in red, as Sam felt himself being dragged through the forest towards a wyvern. He burrowed deep into his well of power, searching for an ember but felt nothing; Not even a spark.
> 
> The bitches painted wyrdmarks on his skin to stifle his magic; the one time be actually wanted his flames. Between the blood loss and injuries sustained in the fight, it was getting harder and harder to hold onto consciousness.
> 
> He wasn’t going to be able to fight his way free. He twisted in the witches grip and dropped one of his blades into the grass, leaving a trail for Ciel and Lyria, before he fell back into oblivion.

Lyria gazed at Ciel. She had known the Witchling since the day of his birth. They had fought together, bedded both males and females together; had healed and scared away nightmares with each other. He was as much a brother to her as Sam was.

She had never seen such earnestness on his face. Or the love he had for her brother. She stepped up and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. His bleeding arms went around her and he kissed the top of her head.

She pulled apart from him and lightly clasped both sides of his face. “Sam is keeping his distance from you because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.” Ciel sighed and she gave him a pitying smile. “The fae who were loyal to Maeve will always want him and those he loves dead. And he loves you, Ciel. He loves you more than life itself. It would destroy him if something happened to you.” She paused before flicking his nose. “Not to mention he thinks you don’t actually have feelings for him since you hit on anything with a  _pulse_.”

Ciel groaned and he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, his own shoulders sagging. Her arms went around him and she rubbed his back, resting her cheek on his temple. He felt like he was going to drop to his knees; like the weight of his secret and heart was taking him apart piece by piece. And she should know. She felt the same way. “You’re an  _idiot_ ,” she sighed.

He pulled apart from her and met her eyes with a grim smile. “I think Sam thinks there’s something going on between us.”

Lyria stepped back from Ciel and gaped at him. “ _What?_ ” He sucked on a tooth. Lyria ran a hand through her hair and shook her head, recalling earlier. “The way Sam looked at us when we touched down.” He nodded confirmation and she tipped her head back and sighed deeply. “Oh  _Sam_. My sweet, loveable idiot of a brother.”

Lyria looked at Ciel beneath an arched brow. His dyed midnight hair was half up in a bun and framed his face, his angled mismatched eyes exhausted. “Ciel, I love you and you’re very pretty, but you are so  _not_ my type.” Her type was golden hair and tawny eyes, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

Ciel’s mouth dropped and he gawked at her. “Okay, that’s just a blatant lie, you swan. I am  _everyone’s_ type.” He placed his hands on his hips and tipped his head back and huffed. “Are we done with this threat because I wanna get back to camp and away from your cruel words.”

She turned her voice to ice. “I meant what I said, Ciel. I will end you if you hurt my brother. Sam is good and he deserves good and if he choses to be with you, you  _will_ be what he deserves. Understand me?”

Ciel closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. But what surprised Lyria most of all was when Ciel got down to his knees and dipped his head and placed his hands on his thighs. “Lyria Galathynius, I swear it.”

She stared at him.  _No_ prince would ever get down on their knees. Definitely not to the Crown Princess to another country. Especially a country that had a such a strenuous history with his own. He looked up at her then, his voice was laced with genuine hurt, “You  _know_  me. Do you honestly think I would hurt your brother?  _Sam_ of all people?” her heart cracked.

She pulled Ciel up onto his feet and pulled him into a hug, her face in the crook of his neck. She felt his hand cup the back of her head and she said into his neck, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He pulled apart from her and flicked her nose, his lips curling into a faint smile that shone in the moonlight. “Territorial fae brat.”

She snorted and wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “Please, I have nothing on Sam.” She looked up at him and gave him a smile and poked him the cheek. “Something to look forward to.”

He kissed the top of her head as they walked back through the forest.  Making it half way, she felt her senses blanket and a sharp pain cracked through the back of her skull. “ _SAM_ ,” she breathed and she hauled off running; Ciel right behind her.

_Not again_

_Not again._

_Not again._

* * *

He let loose a groan as he blinked his eyes open, the edges of his vision tinged in red, as Sam felt himself being dragged through the forest towards a wyvern. He burrowed deep into his well of power, searching for an ember but felt nothing; Not even a spark.

The bitches painted wyrdmarks on his skin to stifle his magic; the one time be actually  _wanted_ his flames. Between the blood loss and injuries sustained in the fight, it was getting harder and harder to hold onto consciousness.

He wasn’t going to be able to fight his way free. He twisted in the witches grip and dropped one of his blades into the grass, leaving a trail for Ciel and Lyria, before he fell back into oblivion.

* * *

Ciel looked around the camp with wide eyes. He could feel his heart pounding through every inch of him as he beheld the carnage around the site. Four witches dead, blue blood painted and seeped deep into the earth. But there was also red. So much red.

_Where is Sam?_

* * *

Lyria let out a growl as she followed the red blood through the forest of trees. Her heart lodged in her throat as she saw a small blade in the grass. She knelt and picked it up and studied the blade. She’d know the etched marble hilt anywhere. It’s Sam’s.

She heard Ciel come up behind her. She stood and faced her friend. Ciel’s face was the picture of frozen fury as he surveyed the scene. “There’s signs of struggle, he’s fighting them off but he’s lost too much blood to be able to stay awake.”

Lyria sheathed Sam’s blade at her side. “He’s trying to leave us a trail.”

Miles to the north, a roar broke out; a wyvern. Sam was being moved. Lyria looked at Ciel, shadows covered his face, making his mismatched eyes glow. He brought two fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle. Abraxos appeared minutes later, limping and covered in blood and cuts. He was barely standing.

“We can’t take him,” Lyria said. “We’ll have to go on foot.”

Ciel looked at Abraxos, his face plain with helplessness and anger. He placed his hand on Abraxos’s snout. “Hide yourself and heal. Heal fast, okay? We got to get to Sam and you’ll just slow us down.” Abraxos nudged Ciel’s hand. “In two days, come to me and we’ll ride to the Frozen Wastes, straight for the Rebel Force.”

As Abraxos went, Ciel turned to her. Lyria crossed her arms. “Something doesn’t make sense. Why would they take Sam? Why not kill him? It makes no sense.” The words tasted like Ash in her mouth, but they needed to be said.

Ciel’s eyes narrowed in thought before widening slightly. “They wanted to get to me. Lyria, there is someone who knows Sam is my mate. Aerona.”

Lyria closed her eyes and fought the urge to break something. “What do you mean Aerona knows Sam’s your mate? Did you tell her?  _When_?”

Profound guilt was etched on Ciel’s face as was unrelenting fury. “The reason I was able to make sure Sam made it Terressen when he got shot with the arrow, Aerona healed Sam enough to make it back. I was panicking so much it came out.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes lined with silver. “I told Aerona Sam was my mate and now he’s going to be tortured for what he means to me.”

* * *

Ciel closed his eyes and exhaled, centering himself. He’d deal with Aerona later. But first, Sam. He opened his eyes and looked at Lyria. “We need help. I know the two of us are nearly unstoppable but I won’t risk Sam’s life. Ornyth is too far for Aelin or Rowan and Rifthold is too far for my parents. We need the Lion; He’s collapsing the mines in Endovier.”

Something like unease flashed through Lyria’s features and she visibly swallowed. “Let’s go get him then.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyria nodded slowly, her eyes filled with frosted hate and brutal calm; Ciel could almost see the frost creeping up on Gavriel’s desk. “We find her,” she said softly.” I’m ripping out her rutting throat.”
> 
> Ciel shook his head. “She’s my kill and I’m taking my time,” he said with a deadly quiet. “She went after my mate and she’s going to be the one to regret. I gave her a pass for threatening my life. Not this time. This time, I’m tearing her apart. Piece by piece.”

Gavriel watched the mines collapse in a puff of black smoke, imagining what it had been like for his Queen to survive such horrors for a year, and then again two years later with Maeve. He, himself, had witnessed and endured his own horrors, but never so as young as seventeen years old.

His heart cracked in his chest as he imagined how very different things would have gone if Aelin Galathynius hadn’t survived the darkness that was brought down by Maeve, if her mate hadn’t brought her back from the edge. There would be no world, he wouldn’t have his son or grandchild. His throat tightened. He wouldn’t have Lyria.

“Gavriel.”

He snapped back to the present and turned to the voice, crossing his arms. “How much longer are we going to be here?”

The witch raised a brow, her gold-flecked eyes lit with amusement. “Is my company not enough?” She flung her wavy golden curls behind her back and gave him a wolfish smile. “Perhaps a certain silver haired beauty is of more interest to you.”

He closed his eyes, cursing the day he told the witch anything about his feelings for the Crown Princess of Terressen; that was the last time he would let her talk him into drinking with her. “I always enjoy your company, Gelasia.” He looked out towards the mines and sighed. “Just missing the Terressen Court and my son.” He smiled. “And Artemis.”

 “Mhmm,” she hummed, folding her arms over chest. “Don’t you worry your pretty golden head, we’re almost done, you can get back to your princess.”

“She’s not  _my_ princess,” he paused. “Well- she  _is-_ but not in the sense your talking.” She smirked at him and he sighed. “I do enjoy our talks, witch.”

“Your Princess has a centuries old fae warrior wrapped around her finger. What is it about that girl that caught  _your_ eye of all people? Is it the hair? The scent?” She clasped her hands. “Oh I know!  _‘She’s a bright light, Asia, in a sea of darkness. She’s just so beautiful.”_ She snorted. “You are so whipped, Gav. It’s pathetic.”

“Okay, Asia. That’s enough.” Gavriel ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, squinting towards the sunset; it was dark enough the stars were starting to bleed in the sky. “Send the workers home. We’ll pick up in the morning.”

* * *

Lyria crouched on the roof, surveying the people and town below. A cold numbness burned through her as she made way for Gavriel’s window; Ciel right behind her. She couldn’t let the people of Endovier know Ciel was there, lest word get back to either of their parents or to Aerona.

She broke off into a run, leaping across the roof and silently slid into the open window across the street. Landing on the plush grass, Lyria quietly sent thanks to her mother for training her to be able to do such things.

 Standing, Lyria took a fluid step out of the way as Ciel vaulted himself through the window and rolled into a crouch. Standing, Ciel shook his hair out of his face and turned to her. “Who would have thought I would need the training your mother gave me? I don’t think I’d ever thought about needing to know how to jump through a window from a separate building.”

She snorted and surveyed Gavriel’s room. His scent was everywhere; meadows and sunshine. Lyria centered herself and looked back at Ciel, who was giving her a raised brow beneath his anger and weariness. “Something going on between you and the Cat? Is it going to affect getting to Sam?”

She scoffed, “There’s nothing going on between me and Gavriel.”  _Just a mating bond that I’ve known about since I was fourteen_. “Mind your own business.”

Ciel studied her, his face unmovable granite, eyes narrowed. She wasn’t sure if she was breathing. No one knew about the bond, nor her feelings for Gavriel; not Aedion and  _definitely_ not her father. “Mhm.”

Lyria pulled out the chair and sat in it before flinging her feet atop the desk. She pulled out Sam’s throwing knife and studied the blade and ran her finger over the etched Terressen knot; Family was the one thing Sam valued over all else.  

  Her brother hadn’t done well with the sounds of battle so he learned how to use long distance weapons; throwing knives, bow and arrow, chakram. Everything. Their father had given Sam the set of marble throwing knives and her brother  _always_ held onto them, just like his feathers.

Lyria flicked her eyes up to Ciel and twirled Sam’s knife. “Tell me more about Aerona. I know you’re friends and I know she’s a witch. What the fuck did she have against my twin?”

A low growl tore from Ciel’s throat. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call her a friend. She’s out for herself, always has been. In fact, I’ll cry of happiness the day her heart stops.”

* * *

_Ciel touched Abraxos down in front of the house, hair whipping in his face. He glanced at Sam, his mate’s face painfully pale and twisted in pain and unconsciousness. Ciel rested his hand on Sam’s cheek and pressed his lips against Sam’s._

_“Ciel?” Sam muttered, his head turning, eyes closed; Ciel could see blood painted across his throat, splattering on his face. “I love you.”_

Oh Sam.

_Ciel’s heart tore in his chest as he unmounted from the wyvern. Abraxos turned his head to him, waiting for orders. “Protect him, Brax. No one gets to the Prince of Terressen, no one. Those are my orders. And to wait until I get back with help.”_

_Abraxos nodded and Ciel made way to Aerona’s door and pounded on it. Each second Ciel had to wait for the witch, anxiety and fear wound more and more around his heart, choking him. He nearly sobbed in relief when she answered the door. “Covered in fae blood, I see.” Her black eyes narrowed. “And witch blood.”_

_She leaned against the frame, her lips curling up into a twisted smile, her eyes raking him. She ran a finger down his chest and he stepped back, out of her reach. “Rona, please,” he choked out, “Help him, help Sam.”_

_She sneered at him, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. “Why would I help him? His family is no friend to witches. It would be a blessing from the Three-Faced Goddess if he were to die.”_

_“Rona, he’s my mate,” her face yielded nothing. Okay. He tried asking; Sam was dying and he didn’t have time to coax her into helping him. “If you won’t heal him for me, then do it because your Crown Prince ordered you to.”_

_She straightened, her iron teeth slamming down. “You swore you wouldn’t use your title on me. That you wouldn’t order me to do anything I wouldn’t agree to.”_

_Ciel’s claws came out and he pressed her against the wall and bit out. “I. Order. You.” Ciel’s eyes bored into hers. “If you want your life, you will do this for me._ Please. _”_

 _The witch glared at him. “Fine._ Fine _. Take me to him. One of these days you’ll regret ordering me, Witchling.”_

* * *

Lyria nodded slowly, her eyes filled with frosted hate and brutal calm; Ciel could almost see the frost creeping up on Gavriel’s desk. “We find her,” she said softly.” I’m ripping out her rutting  _throat_.”

Ciel shook his head. “She’s  _my_ kill and I’m taking my time,” he said with a deadly quiet. “She went after my mate and  _she’s_ going to be the one to regret. I gave her a pass for threatening my life. Not this time. This time, I’m tearing her apart. Piece by piece.”

 Lyria gave him a small cold smile, her pine eyes glowing. “So long as I get to watch,” she purred, Sam’s blade glinting in the setting sun.

Ciel smiled.

* * *

Gavriel stopped in front of his door. Something was off. He could scent someone in his room. He had been on the second floor, door locked. He closed his eyes and sighed.  _The window_. He palmed a hunting knife in his hand and opened the door.

He walked in, his eyes going straight for the silver-haired beauty at his desk. She was covered in dirt, her fighting leathers wrinkled and hair twisted back into a simple braid, showing her tanned throat and sharp cheekbones; she had never been more beautiful. His mouth went dry.

“Hello again, Kitty-Cat,” Lyria said. Gavriel frowned. There was something wrong with her voice. The teasing lilt was nowhere to be seen. The only times he had heard such a voice from her was when violence was about to be enacted. “We need your help.”

“We?”

“Yes, we,” Ciel said, coming up behind him. Gavriel looked at the witch; Ciel’s face was emotionless, his mismatched eyes filled to the brim with hate and fury and powerlessness; things that shouldn’t be seen in someone so young, especially the Crown Prince of two kingdoms. “Will you help us?”

Gavriel sheathed the blade at his side and met Lyria’s eyes. “Whatever you need, Princess. I’m yours.” Ciel’s eyebrow shot up as he looked between him and Lyria. “Where’s Sam?”

The only reaction showing on Lyria was the frost lining her cheek and radiating around herself; a living snowstorm; cold and unforgiving. Lyria twisted the end of her braid, looking at the silver strands. She flung it behind her and cocked her head, looking at him. “He was taken by a legion of Ironteeth witches back to the Frozen Wastes.”

Gavriel ‘s hand tightened on the blade at his side as he thought back to the last time Sam was hurt.

_He looked around the room, at the sheet of ice coating the floors, ceiling and walls. His eyes went to Lyria, her hands pressed to her shoulder, the princess huddled in the corner, her face pressed to her knees. He could see her crying._

_Gavriel leaned down, clasping Lyria’s face. Tears streamed down the Princess’s cheeks as she looked up at him with bright pine eyes. “Something’s wrong, Gavriel. Sam’s hurt. My brother is hurt and I don’t know where he is.” He could count the number of times she had said his name on two hands._

_He cradled her head to his chest and ran a hand through her hair, hushing her. “Just breath, Lyria. Focus on the beating of my heart.” Her arms folded between them and she pressed her face into his shoulder._

_Her ice bit into his skin but it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. He placed his shield against his skin, taking the brunt of her ice. “Can you sense if he’s still alive?”_

_She nodded into his skin, her arm wrapping around his neck. “It’s unraveling though. What if he dies? What if my twin is taken from me?” He felt his shirt grow wet from her tears as she silently cried into his skin. “He’s my Carranam, I won’t survive his death.”_

_He pressed his lips to her temple and pulled her closer. “Everything will be okay, Princess. Sam will be okay. I promise.”_

Gavriel looked between the two royalties, one shrouded in ice and frost and the other in darkness and iron.  “Let’s get him.”

* * *

Sam’s eyes fluttered open, his vision tinged with red as his gaze sharpened to see his shirt on the ground in front of him. He looked around himself, he was in a cavern, high up, cut into the mountains. He pulled at his arms, just to be met with resistance. He tipped his head back and groaned. Iron manacles. His skin felt raw and bleeding.

 He reached into his magic against all hope but found not even an ember;  _Wyrdmarks_. Sam cleared his mind, sudden realization slamming into him, knocking the air out of his lungs. He was going to be whipped.  _No, no, no. Not again. Please._

Sam pushed down the panic as a low laugh filled the cavernous space. Sam looked up to see two witches with cruel smiles waiting for him. “It’s about time you woke up. It was getting rather tedious sharpening weapons without seeing fear on your face,” the dark haired one said as she came up and gripped his chin. Her voice turned low and enticing as she ran a claw down his cheek. “I do love seeing the fear etched on your handsome face.” She sucked the blood off her claw and smiled at him. “You taste so much better than I thought possible.”

Sam spat in her face. “ _Get your hands off me_ ,” he growled.

The witch merely wiped her face and cocked her head. “I have some questions regarding Ciel Blackbeak Havilliard. Are you going to make this easy for me?” Sam gave her a flat look. Who did this female think she was? she clicked her tongue, showing her iron teeth. “Oh Princeling, that was the answer I was hoping for.”

The second witch came up then, dragging a sectioned off whip, it’s tips coated with razor sharp iron.  _No, no, no_ , screamed in his mind but Sam merely rose his chin as the female went behind him. He locked eyes with the first witch. “Do your worst.” She gave him a beautiful, twisted smile.

Sam braced himself as the whip came down.

_Again._

_And again._

_And again._


	7. Chapter 7

_Sam brought the bottle of faewine to his lips as he gazed at the night sky. Whorls of stars stretched over the city in a blanket of wonder. He turned to look at Ciel, the moon casting light on his face and moon-white hair._

_His eyes went to Ciel’s curling lips. Sam wanted to touch him, taste him, bite him, claim him. He never had such an overwhelming sensation of_ want _before. He was a prince after all. Ciel ran his tongue over one of his eye-teeth, his angled eyes looking Sam over._

_“During the ball,” Ciel said, taking the bottle from Sam’s hands and bringing it to his lips, “I saw you watching me dance, Sam. Were you jealous of me or the girl I was with?”_

_Sam was suddenly very aware of the small distance between himself and the witch. He could see the many shades of sapphires and burnished golds in his mismatched eyes, it was almost disorienting. “Why would I be jealous of you? The only girl I dance with is my sister.”_

_“Mhm,” Ciel hummed, taking a drink from the bottle. “You were jealous of_ her _.”_

_“Yes,” he admitted, “I was.”_

_Ciel sat the bottle of faewine down and brought his lips to Sam’s. It was just a brush, barely any contact at all but it sent fire through Sam’s veins. It had him wrapping his fingers around Ciel’s neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss._

_Sam pushed Ciel back into the roof and ran a proprietary hand down Ciel’s chest, feeling every dip of taut muscle through his shirt. A soft moan came from Ciel’s throat as Sam unbuttoned Ciel’s shirt. He kissed the scar twisting right above Ciel’s hipbone._

_Want and need combated with his common sense as he kissed every inch of the witch’s chest. In the back of his head, Sam wondered if he would remember this when he woke up or if he would merely black it out from a drunken haze._

_Ciel’s hand pressed into Sam’s chest and pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Ciel shucked off his shirt and ran his hands down Sam’s chest with a smile on his face. It wasn’t the Ciel Trademark Smirk, it was a sweet honest smile tinged with lust._

_Sam’s heart quickened as Ciel’s lips pressed against Sam’s throat. He wanted to claim Ciel, he wanted to let the witch know just what it was Sam wanted to do to him. Sam tilted his head giving the witch more access to his throat._

_His lips parted and he exhaled as the seventeen-year-old witch nipped and sucked at his skin. He fisted Ciel’s hair as the witch bit into Sam’s throat. His blood sang through every inch of him as Ciel started rolling his hips against him. “Fuck, Sam, you’re so hard,” Ciel whispered against his skin. He was. God’s he was and he hadn’t been this hard in his life and Ciel was touching him, his touch sending fire through him._

_Ciel grinded against the growing erection in Sam’s pants, his arm hooked around Sam’s neck. He pressed his hand against Sam’s chest. Sam’s head tipped back at the pleasure coursing through him. A soft moan escaping his lips. He shouldn’t be doing this, not with his best friend, not with his_ sister’s  _best friend. He was equally parts ashamed and exhilarated but the shame was drowned out by the thought of wanting more, more, more. He couldn’t breathe with the need and arousal flowing through every inch of him._

_Ciel must have sensed his thoughts because he lifted his head from Sam’s neck and met his eyes with blown out pupils and flushed cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?”_

_He should. Gods he really should. But Sam found himself shaking his head and pulling Ciel down to his lips. “Lyria can’t know about his,” Sam said against Ciel’s mouth. It would be the only secret he kept from his sister. He didn’t want her to know what he did with her best friend._

_The witch’s response was a hand cupped to Sam’s face and the parting of his lips, his tongue sliding into Sam’s mouth. Ciel’s hands went to unbutton Sam’s shirt with practiced ease. He opened Sam’s shirt and ran his hands down Sam’s chest, tracing the tattoo at his side._

_Sam was growing harder and harder to the point the pleasure bordered on pain. He rolled his hips against Ciel, hoping the friction would help alleviate some of the building pressure. Ciel’s smile turned into a purely male smirk. “Want me to do something about that, Princeling?”_

_Sam meet the witch’s eyes. His heart was pounding through every inch of him. Did he want Ciel to get him off? The short answer was yes. But what would happen afterwards? What would happen to his and the witch’s friendship?_

_The questions rattled off in his head but Sam just nodded. There was no way he was getting up and he had been lusting after Ciel since he was nineteen. If things got weird, they could blame it on the alcohol flooding through their systems._

_Ciel pressed a kiss against Sam’s sternum and slid off him. His slender fingers went to the laces and buckle at Sam’s pants. He pulled Sam’s pants down and bit at his lip at Sam’s erection, his eyes slightly wide. “I don’t know if I can get all that in my mouth.” Heat rose in Sam’s face and he choked on a laugh. Ciel palmed Sam’s member and pumped him, his free hand curling around Sam’s neck._

_Sam growled at the teasing pace Ciel was stroking him at. It was pure torture that had Sam looking up at the stars. The white lights blended together as Sam’s frustration grew and grew. “Stop. Playing. Ciel,” he bit out. “Or I’m getting myself off.”_

_Ciel chuckled and took him harder and faster. Sam tried grabbing at the roof, gripping for some kind of purchase. He felt Ciel’s lips wrap around Sam’s member, his tongue swirling around the head of him, bringing him closer and closer to climax. Sam moaned Ciel’s name and cursed._

_His hand went to fist Ciel’s hair as he thrusted into Ciel’s mouth. Heat flooded through every inch of him, his flames wanting to ignite. Sam held back his magic and sensed Ciel using his own magic to cool the air before wildfire erupted around them._

_A soft gag came from Ciel’s throat as he choked on Sam. Stars sparked behind Sam’s eyelids as he was brought to completion. Ciel sucked and swallowed Sam through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Sam’s breath was dense, his body limp as Ciel brought his lips to his in a crushing kiss._

_Sam grimaced slightly at the taste on Ciel’s tongue but it was soon forgotten as Ciel kissed Sam senseless. Minutes or hours went by. Sam didn’t know and he didn’t care. Ciel kissed and touched him until time blurred into a swirl of wildfire and darkness._

* * *

Sam’s eyes fluttered open, the memory still fresh on his eyelids. He remembered that night. His feelings for Ciel had overflowed and he had nearly fucked the witch on the roof of an abandoned building while drunk out of his mind.

He remembered Ciel the next day, trying to talk to him about it but Sam had just shot him down and written it off as drunk sex that meant nothing. It was one of the coldest things he had ever done to Ciel and he hated himself for it.

He couldn’t let Ciel be in the line of fire, used against him. If the choice ever came down between Ciel or his kingdom, he honestly didn’t know what he would choose. And that hesitation would get either the male he loved dead or thousands upon thousands dead. So he let nothing be between them. If no one knew about his love for the witch then no one could use it against him.

Sam looked around himself to see red blood splattered against dark stone. Wind bit at his back, burning through the slashes against his skin. It took only seconds for Sam to remember where he was.

He looked around himself with heavy eyes to see the two witches from before waiting for him. The nearest witch looked him over with enticing eyes and smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the waking, Princeling. Are you ready to answer those questions now?’

Sam’s eyes went past the witch to the other and dropped down to see the iron whip tinged in red blood.  _His_ red blood. He swallowed back panic and met the first witch’s gaze. “Fuck. You.”

Sam braced himself as the other witch dragged the whip back behind him. His back split apart as the iron tips sliced into him again and again. He clamped his teeth so hard he thought they might break from the sheer force of holding back his scream. He squeezed his eyes to stop the tears of pain and anger from spilling onto his cheeks but he still felt them prick behind his eyes.

His breath came and went in unsteady beats, his lungs crying out in protest as his body tried to heal itself from the pain of the whip. The whip came down again and Sam’s back spasmed. Sam hung his head and gulped at air, trying to separate himself from the pain. He needed to protect Ciel and he would let himself be carved apart in order to keep the witch safe.

* * *

A scream broke out from Lyria and Gavriel turned to see the princess buckle to her knees, the palms of her hands bracing the earth as she breathed raggedly. Gavriel was instantly on his knees, his hands framing the Princess’s face. “Just breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Her eyes went to Ciel. The witch’s eyes were hard, his face unmovable stone. “He’s being whipped. My brother is being whipped.  _Again_.”

Gavriel remembered the first time Sam had been whipped. He was eleven years old. There had been a kidnapping, an assassination attempt on the young prince’s life by those still loyal to Maeve. They wanted to take away the Fire Bringer’s son like how she took their Queen.

Ciel knelt in front of Lyria, his tawny features frozen with anguish and heartache and so much pain as he studied Lyria’s face. He brought two fingers to his lips and let out the loudest whistle Gavriel had ever heard. Minutes later a small wyvern circled the sky before landing in the soft grass.

Gavriel helped Lyria stand as Ciel turned to her, his dyed black hair whipping unforgivably in the wind. Gavriel’s blood ran cold at the pure calculation in Ciel’s frozen face. The teasing lilt of Ciel’s face that Gavriel had seen on the witch since he was a babe was nowhere to be seen. It was gone, leaving cold ruthlessness. “Will you be able to ride him?”

Lyria’s eyes went to Abraxos. The fear in her eyes was drowned out by sheer determination. The Princess turned to Ciel and raised her chin. “For Sam? Yes. I would do anything for my brother.”

Ciel studied her and nodded. They mounted Abraxos and flew into the night sky straight for the Frozen Wastes. Lyria had collapsed against his chest during the flight, the pain through the twins’ bond had grown stronger and stronger as they drew closer to the base of the mountains. The pain had brought her unconscious halfway through the ride. If it were this bad for Lyria, how bad was it for  _Sam_?

When they touched down, Gavriel lifted Lyria in his arms and carried her to the camp. The princess who was a very bright light in a world of darkness was unconscious in his arms. He laid her on the ground and brought her silver hair out of her eyes.

Gavriel stood then, aware of the attention the witch’s eyes brought him. “Tell me one thing, Cat. Do you love her?”

Gavriel nearly gaped at the nineteen-year-old witch. The young Crown Prince of The Witch Kingdom and Adalarn stared him down. He had  _centuries_ on the boy but he still managed to unnerve him with the glacial glare he was giving him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m going to let that go,” Ciel said. “Because I need to worry about Sam. But if you hurt her, I will carve you apart.”

Gavriel watched Ciel settle onto the ground, his arms thrown over his knees as he stared into the fire, his eyes nearly defeated. His heart hurt for the witch. He could smell the guilt on him. He blamed himself for what was happening to the Twins.

Gavriel settled down across from him and watched him. “It isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

The witch’s eyes lifted to his, his face empty and cold. “But it is. I asked Aerona to help Sam. I made her help him. She warned me, Gavriel. She  _warned me_  that I would regret forcing her to help one of the fae. Now she knows what Sam means to me. She is punishing me through hurting him.”

Understanding was starting to settle in Gavriel as he looked at the witch. He loved Sam. It was hard, he supposed, to not love someone like the Prince of Terressen. Gavriel had watched the demifae grow into his position and magic. His heart was true, his honor untarnished. Sam Galathynius deserved the world.

“If you hadn’t, Sam would be dead this minute. You made a difficult decision that had no good out comes, only bad and worse. Sam is still alive and where there is life, there is hope. We will get to Sam, Your Highness. I swear it.”

* * *

Sam lifted his head when he heard a throaty laugh fill the cavernous space. Aerona. She swaggered up to him and gripped his chin and patted his cheek. “Sam, Sam, Sam. It’s  _so_ good to see you again.”

He stared at her vaguely recalling seeing her all those months ago.  She had healed him. “What are you doing, Aerona?” He asked in a low growl, his eyes narrowed. “Ciel is your prince, your  _friend_. Why are you doing this?”

 She dug a claw into Sam’s cheek, ignoring his questions. Sam hissed as blood welled and slid down his chin onto his chest. She licked it from his skin and smiled at him. “I can see why the Prince is so smitten with you, Sam. Your blood tastes divine.”

Sam pulled back and growled at her. “When I get out of here, and I  _will_ , I’m lighting you on fire, you rutting bitch.”

She seemed unfazed at his words and she tilted her head and ran a finger down the cut on his face and examined the blood on her fingers before flicking her eyes to him. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

Sam’s instincts sharpened and he stared at her. His heart sounded in his ears as she brushed her hair back behind her. “Hasn’t told me what?”

She smiled terribly. “Ciel Blackbeak Havilliard is your mate.”

“ _What_.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manon took in the room as Chaol went forward to Dorian’s side. Both men hunched over the table, looking at something. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her husband’s tense defined back and hunched shoulders. “Dorian? What is it?”
> 
> His shoulders sagged as he sighed deeply, no doubt gathering his wits as he turned around, his beautiful sapphire eyes alert and weary all at once. “It would appear our son has been busy. Or at least was busy roughly a year ago.”
> 
> She frowned. “What are you-“
> 
> Her heart stopped as she saw it. An infant. Wrapped in a black silken blanket. She went up wordlessly to the table and took in the smooth tanned face, the golden hair and the mismatched upturned gold and sapphire eyes. They were her son’s eyes. Ciel’s eyes.

Sam stared at Aerona, a great silence filling his mind. His first thought was she was lying. But it was immediately drowned out by the thought of ‘ _what if_ ”. The logic of it, it made sense. Him and Ciel. Ciel was Darkness to his Wildfire, loud to his quiet. And it made sense why he was still breathing. The witches were using him to flush out the Crown Prince of Adalarn and the Witch Kingdom.

“Why would you tell me this?” Sam demanded. “You gain nothing.”

The witch merely smiled. “You’re going to die, Sam. Before your mate and sister come to get you. I wanted to see your face when you realized you wouldn’t get the chance to accept the bond or tell him you love him.”

His gaze shuttered as he digested the thought of never seeing Ciel again, never holding or kissing him, never telling him he loved him. The thought of the witch losing his mate had him snarling at Aerona. She laughed. “There it is, there’s the look.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” Sam seethed, pulling at the iron restraints rubbing his wrists raw. “They’ll come and when they do, Ciel will carve the heart from your chest. Whether or not I live, you will be hunted to the ends of the world for your betrayal against your country and the murder of your prince’s mate.”

Sam cracked a bloody smile as the witch’s eyes narrowed. “So kill me, Aerona. You won’t only have the Witch Kingdom and Adalarn out for your blood. You will have Terressen and the Fire Bringer out for you. And if there is one thing I know about my mother, she does  _not_ lose.”

If the witch was at all bothered by his words, Sam couldn’t tell. Instead she just looked behind herself, towards the cave opening before looking back at him, smiling. “I’m needed elsewhere, but no worries, I’ll be back. And when I am, you’re going to sing for me.”

* * *

Manon had managed to nestle into the couch with her book when a knock on the door pulled her from her book. She debated on ignoring it but when the knocks turned frantic, she shut the book and answered the door.

The King’s Hand stood outside, his eyes wide, face pale. She frowned and looked him over, he appeared uninjured. Maybe his wife or daughter’s cycles were upon them and he made himself scarce. “What is it, Westfall? Female problems?”

His nostrils flared as he glared at her. “You’re going to want to come to the throne room with me, Your Majesty. The Court has been ordered to clear out. The King is already there waiting for you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You better come see for yourself. There’s no way I can explain this without you there.”

Apprehension filled her body as she followed the King’s Hand through the castle. What could have him as pale as he is with everything that has happened over the years; Valg, paralysis, war, death. He pushed open the doors to the throne room and as he said, the court had been dismissed.

Manon took in the room as Chaol went forward to Dorian’s side. Both men hunched over the table, looking at something. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her husband’s tense defined back and hunched shoulders. “Dorian? What is it?”

 His shoulders sagged as he sighed deeply, no doubt gathering his wits as he turned around, his beautiful sapphire eyes alert and weary all at once. “It would appear our son has been busy. Or at least was busy roughly a year ago.”

She frowned. “What are you-“

Her heart stopped as she saw it.  _An infant._ Wrapped in a black silken blanket _._ She went up wordlessly to the table and took in the smooth tanned face, the golden hair and the mismatched upturned gold and sapphire eyes. They were her son’s eyes. Ciel’s eyes.

She picked up the child and brought it to her chest and scented it. A female and a witchling. Manon brushed the baby’s cheek with her thumb, earning her a wrinkling nose and a wide yawn; her heart swelled. “She looks just like him,” she murmured. Manon looked up at her husband. “She has to be at most a few weeks old. And Ciel, he doesn’t know, does he?” Dorian shook his head and she turned to Chaol and demanded, “Where’s the mother?”

Chaol shook his head, his hand resting on his sword. “Unknown. The infant was found at the castle gates an hour ago by Nadia and Nesryn. Whoever left her was long gone by the time she was found. We took her to Yrene, the healer said she’s perfectly healthy.”

She willed her iron to stay sheathed. How  _dare_ someone leave an infant, a witchling, a  _royal_ on the castle steps alone where Gods knew what could happen to her. What if she had died before being found? Her  _granddaughter_. “Was there a note? Something? Tell me they did not leave a baby without so much as a word.”

“There was a note,” Dorian said. “But not much of one.”

He held out a piece of parchment between steady fingers; though she did not miss the anger in his features. She handed her husband the baby and took the note from him and read it:

  _Ciel-_

_This is your child, your daughter. Love her and cherish her. She has no name, I thought her father should name her._

_-Yvonne_

She turned the paper over, looking for more writing but found none. Clenching her teeth, Manon folded the paper and put it on the table before whirling around the face Chaol. “I want her found and brought to me. I don’t care if you must round up every Yvonne in the entire tri-city.  _No one_ is going to get away with abandoning a baby on our steps. Especially a royal one. Especially my  _son’s_ _daughter_.”

“We already have guards out scouring the city for the woman and comparing signatures with a copy of the note. As are the Shadows. We’ll find her and when we do, we’ll get our answers,” Chaol said.

* * *

_Ciel ran a hand through his moon white hair, pacing in front of Lyria’s rooms. Anxiety jumped through his veins as he recalled the night before. Him and Sam…up on that roof. His head still pounded from the hangover of the night before but Gods…Sam. That male sure knew what the hell he was doing._

_One of his best friends…he nearly fucked his best friend. He let out a low, deep breath and steeled his spine and went into the rooms. He found the Prince of Terressen on Lyria’s bed, reading as usual. He felt himself start to smile, suddenly feeling the weight of Sam’s body on his, his scent, his touch. Ciel could see dark bruises branded on the male’s tanned throat made with his own teeth and mouth._

_“Sam.”_

_Sam Galathynius looked up from his book, his face unreadable. He exhaled slowly and got up from the bed and leaned against one of the bedposts, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Ciel.”_

_“About last night-“_

_=Sam came up to him, his face cold and emotionless. It didn’t look right. Not on Sam. Sam who was all heart. Not…this unfeeling ruthlessness. “Last night was fun, but it meant nothing. We were drunk, it won’t happen again.”_

_He stared at Sam. “But what if I want it to happen again?”_

_Sam looked directly at him, his face impassive. “I don’t mind being one of your conquests, Ciel. I also got something out of it. You don’t need to pretend.”_

_He could not have heard him right. Sam wasn’t like this. He was one of the smartest people he had ever known. He had to know that he wouldn’t make a move on one of his best friends, another_ prince _if he didn’t feel something for him. He had known him since he was born. He_ knew  _him._

_Ciel caught Sam’s arm as the Prince tried storming past him. He whirled him around to face him, chest to chest. Sam may have five inches on him, but he wouldn’t let him walk away from him. Not like this. “You aren’t a ‘conquest’ and you know it, Sam Galathynius.”_

_Sam visibly swallowed, the air around them pulsing with invisible flame. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Because that’s what you were to me.”_

_Ciel recoiled backwards. “You’re lying. You don’t lie, Sam, and you won’t start with me. I won’t let-”_

_“You won’t_ ‘let me’ _? I am a_ prince _,” he said callously, his lips tightening, fingertips sparking blue. “No one ‘_ let’s’ _me do anything. I do what I want when I want with who I want. And I_ don’t _want you.” Sam shrugged out of Ciel’s grasp, his eyes cold chips of ice of turquoise and gold flame. “And as you_ said _, I don’t lie. So why would I be lying now? I wouldn’t be.”_

_Ciel took an involuntary step backwards and gaped at the Prince of Terressen; being gutted would hurt less. Sam’s eyes fractured deeply and he walked around Ciel and out the doors of Lyria’s rooms. Ciel took note of Sam scratching himself as he turned the corner._

_He debated finding Lyria or Asterin for the meltdown that was about to happen, but he didn’t know where either were so he went after Sam. His heart cracked as he found him sitting inside one of the dark rooms. Ciel shut the doors quietly behind him and crouched in front of the prince. “What can I do?”_

_“Put your arms around me,” Sam murmured, rocking. “Tight. I need to feel it, tethered to something.”_

_The thought of Sam needing him, to be tethered to him, made his heart swell. Even if it wasn’t in the context he wanted from Sam, a piece of him was better than none._

_Ciel did as instructed, pulling Sam’s body into his arms, as tight as he could. The fae prince pressed his face into Ciel’s neck, his hands clenched into his tunic. He used his magic to cool the pulsing heat coming from Sam, his hand cupping the back of Sam’s head. “Just breathe Sam.”_

_They sat that way for what felt like hours. Sam rocking in his arms, trying to calm himself down, most likely breathing in his scent. He pressed his lips to the top of Sam’s head. Finally, Sam stopped rocking and his shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry Ciel,” Sam murmured against his skin. “So very sorry.”_

* * *

Ciel jerked awake and looked around the camp with wild eyes, the scent of embers and firewood and vanilla filling his nose and mouth. He could almost feel Sam still in his arms, could almost see him here with him. His heart pounded though every inch of him.

Lyria was in front of him in seconds, her hands clasping the sides of his face. “Ciel, look at me,” she ordered.

 But her voice was drowned out by the pounding in his ears. He barely registered the smell of blood filling his nose or the growl tearing through Gavriel’s throat. But then he saw it, his claws imbedded in Lyria’s forearms and the blood that painted her tanned skin.  “ _Ciel_.”

He let go of his violent grip and retracted his claws. “Lyria, I’m so sorry.”

She paid no attention to the wounds and pulled him in a hug. He pressed his face into her neck and held onto her, willing his heart to calm down. There was so much he was sorry for. For the pain Sam was enduring and the pain Lyria was enduring and now this. His mate has been gone for six days. Six days with the Yellowlegs witches and a whip and gods knew what else.

Lyria smoothed down Ciel’s hair as more panic flared in him. How much longer could Sam go without food or healing? Ciel pulled out of her arms and got to his feet and tied back his hair with a strap of leather. “Let’s go. “

 “Ciel-“ Gavriel started.

Ciel leveled a look at the Lion of Doranelle. “I said.  _Let’s go_.”

* * *

Lyria flew, scouting head, and looked for evidence as to where Sam would be. She prayed to the Gods Sam didn’t get whipped. It would render her useless from finding him. Her ice sluiced in her veins at the thought of her brother enduring such heinous things. He would let himself be carved apart if it meant protecting everyone else.

Rain misted down on them, chilling her deep down to the marrow of her bones. She pulled her hair back into a braid as they stalked through the rocky range. Hours passed before coming Lyria spotted a dark-haired witch walking through the space below.

She flew to her and shifted behind her, pressing Sam’s hunting knife to the witch’s pale throat. “Make a sound and I’ll slit your throat,” Lyria whispered into her ear. She could smell a small trace of fear in the female’s scent. “Nod if you understand.”

The witch nodded slightly, a small stream of red spilling down the witch’s pale throat. Lyria lowered the blade and the witch turned around to face her, her dark eyes hateful.

 “Tell me where my twin is.”

The witch’s lip curled. “No.”

Lyria gave the female a frozen smile and summoned her magic, icing over one of the witch’s fingers. “ _Tell me_  where my twin is.”

The witch’s throat bobbed. “No.”

Lyria lifted her chin and shattered the female’s finger, leaving a bloody stump in its wake. The witch’s screams echoed off the mountains around them. “Tell me.  _Where my brother is_.”

The witch hugged her hand to her chest, her breath ragged as tears streamed down her face. “N-no.” Lyria tsked and froze over a second finger. “ _Please_.”

Lyria shattered it. The witch’s screams turned to hoarse incomprehensible moans. Maybe she’d care about this, about using her power to do something like this, but she didn’t, not when these witches were responsible for the death of so many and responsible for taking her brother; her twin; her  _Carranam_. Sam was the good one. Not her.

She iced over the rest of the witch’s fingers. Tears streamed down the witch’s face and she buckled to her knees. “I don’t- I don’t  _know_  where he is!”

 Lyria’s gaze bore into the witch’s pain-laced eyes. She was telling the truth. “Then I have no use for you.”

“ _Wait_ -“

Lyria froze over the rest of the witch, turning her into complete ice. With a raised chin, Lyria shattered the witch into a million pieces and shifted, flying back to Gavriel and Ciel. Perhaps they had gotten lucky.

* * *

Sam braced himself as someone came through the cavernous space and up to him. She looked him over, her green-eyes cunning and deeply annoyed about something. She held a finger up to her lips and brought out a black blade. He shot his eyes between the witch’s beautiful face and the blade in her steady hand.

Was this it? Was she finally here to kill him?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel yanked his arm out if the Lion’s grasp and pushed him; the Lion fell back two steps from the force of it. “You want to know what happened? We fucked.” Gavriel didn’t so much as blink though Lyria’s eyes widened, no doubt surprised both he and Sam kept something like this from her.
> 
> “We had sex and then got into a fight and an hour later Sam got shot through the shoulder with a godsdamned arrow and the mating bond snapped in place and he almost fucking died and now he’s about to die again.” Gavriel’s eyes widened at the admission of the bond. Ciel laughed harshly and gave him a cold smile. “There. Happy now? Now you know what actually happened on that scouting mission. Tell me, Cat, does it help us find Sam faster?” Gavriel just looked at him and Ciel snapped, “You may be the Lion of Doranelle but I am the Crown Prince of two kingdoms and I do not answer to the likes of you.”

Thunder cracked in the sky above them, sending shockwaves of sound through the mountain valley pass. Ciel could feel the air charge around him, wanting to ignite with violence. Next to him Lyria and the Lion of Doranelle sniffed the air, soft growls coming from them both. “You can feel them,” Ciel murmured hoarsely. “Witches. A lot of them. All rogue.”

A vicious smile spread on Lyria’s face, her eyes lit with the need for vengeance for the spilled blood of her twin brother, for the prince of her country,    for her best friend’s mate. For herself. “Come on out,” Lyria sang, icy claws growing on her fingertips. “We know you’re there. Show your faces.”

Gavriel pulled his sword out of it’s sheath and squared his shoulders, waiting.

The thunder clapped again as the witch after witch appeared. A cold smile played on his lips as he felt the first drops of rain on his face. Water, ice, these were the elements that sang in his blood. “Give us Sam Galathynius and we’ll make this painless,” Ciel said, his magic carrying his voice.

  All around him, the witches’ claws grew, the smell of iron and malice filling the air: they wanted a fight. The Lion drew his sword and Ciel exchanged glances with Crown Princess of Terressen.  _You ready?_

She nodded once and they both faced the witches. Ciel dipped into his magic and stopped the rain water around them. Tiny droplets of water suspended in the air around them all. And before the witches could attack, both Ciel and Lyria shifted the rainwater to ice and flung each sliver against the witches.

The ice split the witches’ skins open in thousands of places, blue blood spilling past each wound, their screams cut through the howling wind as each dropped one by one like stone.

  Ciel stalked through the pass, going to witch after witch, looking for evidence as to where Sam could be on them. When he found nothing, he enveloped their bodies with flame, giving each a pyre. A part of him, a deep part of him recoiled at having done this to his own people. But it was as Sam had told him, these were rogue witches and they didn’t deserve his mercy.

* * *

_The firelight cast shadows on Sam’s handsome face, his burnished gold hair almost like living flame. But Ciel was too hollow to take pleasure in the beauty that was Sam Galathynius. His hands were stained with blue blood, with his people’s blood._

_Sam looked at him, his gold-rimmed eyes soft as he squeezed Ciel’s shoulder. “Hey,” Sam whispered. “You’re doing the right thing, Ciel. These witches, they do not deserve your mercy or your love. They have broken apart from your crown and are killing innocents. Women and children.”_

_Ciel looked up at him, at Sam. He curled his fingers around the back of his neck and leaned closer to him. “Sam,” he murmured a breadth away from Sam’s lips. “Please.”_ Make me forget I just killed my own people.

_Sam’s eyes fractured deeply as he looked down at him. He could see the heat and the want in them but for some reason he wouldn’t give himself what he desired. “Ciel we can’t. We can’t keep doing this.” Ciel brushed Sam’s bottom lip with his thumb and looked up at him, waiting for Sam to pull apart from him. But he didn’t move and his eyes were on Ciel’s lips. “I can’t give you what you want. It isn’t fair to either of us.”_

_He knew that. Darkness claim him he knew that. But it was Sam._ Sam. _He was so far gone for the fae, he needed this, if only once, if only to forget what he had just done. “I’ll take whatever you can give me. Please, just once. Just so I know what it’s like.”_

_Sam’s breath shuddered and he licked his lips, his eyes lifting to his own. “Just once?”_

_“Just once,” Ciel agreed._

_Sam’s mouth almost instantly lowered to his own, pressing a kiss to Ciel’s lips. Oh it was soft, so soft and so sweet. So very Sam._

_Sam’s calloused hands slipped up Ciel’s tunic and he pulled it over his head. The fae’s eyes traced Ciel’s chest, his eyes blown out and wanting so much. Sam’s eyes lifted to his own and he pulled his own tunic off, his hair cascading down his shoulders._

_The fae laid Ciel down onto the soft grass below him and hovered over him, his golden hair falling around him like a halo. He couldn’t help but trace the spine of Sam’s scarred back with his fingers as Sam’s mouth lowered to his own, opening and sliding his tongue in Ciel’s mouth._

_Sam’s hands went lower, lower, and lower to Ciel’s laces as they kissed, kissed, and kissed. But Ciel pulled apart from his lips and looked up at him. “Sam- Sam wait.”_

_Sam immediately stopped and looked down at him, his breath dense, his eyes shaded with worry. “Change your mind?”_

_“No,” Ciel said. “No. Never. I just- I haven’t-” He took a breath. “I haven’t been with a male before.”_

_There had been times, countless times where it would have been easy; so very easy. There were so many pretty boys at court who would have gladly and willingly and eagerly given their Crown Prince that first time. But there was always a reason not to take it all the way. It felt like a part of him, some deep primal part of him wanted to wait. Wanted Sam to be the one._

_Sam blinked and blinked again, the weight of his words sinking in. Somehow Sam’s eyes blew out even more in the firelight. “You’ve never been with a male? I had assumed when were on the roof that night-”_

_Heat rose in Ciel’s face and he bit at his lip. “No. You. You’re the first. I_ want  _you to be the first.” He smiled then, “Who better than my best friend?”_

 _“Are you_ sure _,” Sam whispered, his brows furrowed. “Ciel-”_

_Ciel guided Sam’s hand down between his legs to where his erection was straining against his leathers. The fae’s nostrils flared. “You tell me, Sam. Am I sure?”_

_Sam inhaled sharply, a low rumble in his chest as he palmed him. “The only reason I ask,” Sam growled, “is because we’re in the middle of a rutting forest. Not exactly the kind of place one loses their virginity.”_

_Ciel laughed softly and hooked his arms around Sam’s neck. “I couldn’t care less where it happened. I’m more concerned with who it happens with. Though your concern is touching.”_

_Sam’s brows rose and then he grinned, leaning down and kissing him hard on the mouth. His hands went to work at pulling apart the laces at Ciel’s abdomen. Sam pulled apart from him just to discard the rest of his clothing and to pull the rest of Ciel’s off._

_Sam gave him an indulgent look over, a lazy grin on his mouth._ Gods _. Sam was worth the wait. He was worth everything. He watched Sam hold his gaze as he coated his fingers in saliva. “I’ll try to make this as painless for you as possible,” Sam murmured._

 _He inhaled sharply as a finger slid in, then another. Sam waited a heartbeat and lowered to swallow him whole, his fingers teasing, working him open as he blew him. Ciel tipped his head back and moaned; Gods._ Gods.  _Sam knew what the hell he was_ doing _._

_Sam lifted his head and hovered over him, pressing scorching kisses to his skin on his way up. “You ready?” Sam whispered._

_Ciel nodded and inhaled sharply as Sam nudged in. He didn’t move above Ciel; he let him adjust to having him inside. Tears pricked behind Ciel’s eyes; Gods it hurt, but it was the best kind of hurt. The kind of hurt you wanted to happen again and again._

_“You can bite me if you need to, Witchling,” Sam whispered, brushing the shell of Ciel’s ear with his lips. “Whatever you need.”_

_He gave Sam a breathless laugh, his nails biting into Sam’s shoulders. “You just want my teeth in you again, don’t you, Princeling.”_

_Sam dipped his head and laughed quietly, pressing a kiss below Ciel’s ear. “That may be a factor, Ciel,” Sam said against his skin. “Either way, you’re going to want to bite me.”_

_Sam nudged his way in more and Ciel inhaled sharply, biting down on Sam’s shoulder. He could feel his iron teeth threatening to slam down in his gums. Ciel scratched at Sam’s back as he slowly retracted and pushed back in. “It’s all right Ciel, just do it.”_

_Ciel’s iron teeth slammed down and Sam groaned, retracting and pushing back in. A moan reverberated in the back of Ciel’s throat as red blood pulsed into his mouth. Gods it tasted so sweet; like embers and honey and vanilla. It tasted like home. He tasted no fear in Sam’s blood. But he did taste want and lust and love._

_“Gods,” Sam moaned, pushing the rest of the way in, his forehead pressed to Ciel’s shoulder. “You’re so tight. So fucking_ tight _.”_

_Sam rolled his hips, thrusting with so much care, as his lips found his own, pressing kisses so softly yet so solidly at the same time. He was right; waiting for Sam, that was the best decision he had ever made. But Gods, it was also the worst. This had to happen again. Once wasn’t enough for him, it never would be._

_Sam froze above him and looked down, his eyes looking him over, shaded with concern. “What’s wrong? Your scent changed. Do you want me to stop? Does it hurt too much?”_

_Ciel shook his head and pulled Sam’s lips back down. “Nothing’s wrong,” Ciel murmured against his mouth. “Nothing at all. Don’t stop.”_

_Sam stayed frozen for a heartbeat longer before rolling his hips against his. Ciel closed his eyes as Sam stroked him, committing the feel of Sam’s weight, his touch, his taste to memory. He gasped out, his claws imbedding into Sam’s shoulders, as Sam thrusted, hitting the spot, the most sensitive spot again and again. “Sam-”_

_He shattered and Sam thrusted through the aftershocks of Ciel’s orgasm. “Gods,” Sam panted, his gold-rimmed eyes glowing. “_ Gods. Ciel- _”_

 _Sam shattered, collapsing on top of him, his damp forehead pressed to Ciel’s shoulder, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. Ciel’s own heart racketed in his chest, his head tipped back and the stars above them blurry._ Fuck.

 _They stayed that way, Sam’s forehead on his shoulder and Ciel’s claws in Sam’s own shoulders for what felt like forever. It almost seemed like Sam was dragging out the time for as long as he possibly could before he had to pull out and this- whatever_ this  _was- was over._

_But finally, Sam did and he carefully cleaned the both of them off with such caring hands. Ciel dressed himself, watching Sam silently pull his own clothes on, flipping his golden hair out of the collar of his tunic. The fae’s face was about as readable as a thunderstorm. “Sam, that was amazing.”_

_Sam sat, staring at the fire, his arms on his knees. Ciel knew what was coming, he could feel it in the air. He sighed quietly, waiting for what he knew Sam was going to say._

_“We shouldn’t have done this,” Sam finally whispered, the fire flickering in his eyes. “Ciel, we shouldn’t have done this.”_

_Ciel grabbed Sam’s hand with his own, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. “Do you regret it?” Ciel said in a low voice, his eyes going to the bruises at Sam’s neck and shoulders. Gods he could still taste him, feel him inside. “Do you regret having sex with me?”_

_Sam looked directly at him, curling Ciel’s hair behind his ear with his trembling free hand. “No. Never. I am_ honored _you would let me be your first. And that… that_ was _amazing. But Ciel..”_

 _“Why Sam,” Ciel snapped, stepping out of the fae’s touch. “Why won’t you let yourself have what you want. You want me, I know it. You know it. So stop_ lying _. You aren’t a liar.”_

 _Sam’s eyes flashed and he got to his feet, his hands going to his weapons. “You think with the way you look there is no possible way that someone wouldn’t want you? I don’t want you. Stop thinking that I do. I_ don’t. _That arrogance will cost you in the end.”_

 _“No, I think that because we keep doing things like_ this _. We keep kissing or touching or fucking. We’re obviously drawn together, Sam. Why can’t you just admit it? Just admit you like me.”_

 _Sam’s entire face became ice, pure solid ice. “Because it’s not true. Because every time we have done something like this,_ you _were the one to instigate it. Not me.”_

_Ciel smiled coldly. He could feel his iron teeth threatening to slam down, though his claws did. “I may be the one to instigate it but you sure as fuck enjoyed it and wanted it. Bad.” Ciel said callously. “I didn’t see you pull away. You’re eager and using me starting it as an excuse to touch me. You want me and you’re too much of a coward to do something about it.”_

_Ciel shrank inward. The words that had just come out of his own mouth, he had never talked to someone like that, let alone the male he was in love with. If Lyria knew, if Sam’s twin sister and_ Carranam  _knew about this, she would rip his heart out. Ciel just rose his chin, refusing to back down._

 _Sam’s eyes ignited and flame combusted around him, engulfing the night with blue and gold embers. “_ Now _I regret it you sonofabitch. I am not a godsdamned coward but you_ are _a heartless prick.”_

 _“_ Sam _.” Ciel watched Sam stalk through the trees with a bow in hand, his flames extinguishing, the darkness swallowing Sam whole and without a single look back at him. Ciel put his face in his hands and sighed deeply. “_ Fuck.”

* * *

Ciel went through each witch’s remains and then burned each body. He felt Gavriel come up beside him and clasp his shoulder. “Your scent changed, Your Highness. I feel as if you aren’t here in the present. Being in your memories right now is a dangerous thing.”

Ciel shrugged out of the fae’s grasp and went to the next body. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the last mission I was with Sam on.” Sam had taken off through the trees and forty minutes later, he was shot through the shoulder. Ciel had forgotten every reason why he had been angry with Sam when he watched his mate fall to the ground.

  Gavriel nodded and knelt, going through the witch’s clothing. “I help treat Sam’s wound when he was brought to us. I remember your face, Prince. It was the face of someone afraid of losing someone they loved.” Gavriel lifted his tawny eyes to his and they were bright and knowing. “Something happened on that mission, didn’t it? Something that neither of you put in your reports.”

Ciel pursed his lips, immersing the witch’s body with blue flame. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Cat. We killed witches and Sam got hurt. That’s it.”

  Gavriel got in front of him and Ciel tried pushing past him only for Gavriel to grab his arm. “You’re lying, Ciel. It could be important to getting-”

  Ciel yanked his arm out if the Lion’s grasp and pushed him; the Lion fell back two steps from the force of it. “You want to know what happened? We  _fucked_.” Gavriel didn’t so much as blink though Lyria’s eyes widened, no doubt surprised both he and Sam kept something like this from her.

“We had sex and then got into a fight and an hour later Sam got shot through the shoulder with a godsdamned arrow and the mating bond snapped in place and he almost fucking  _died_ and now he’s about to die  _again_.” Gavriel’s eyes widened at the admission of the bond. Ciel laughed harshly and gave him a cold smile. “There. Happy now? Now you know what actually happened on that scouting mission. Tell me, Cat, does it help us find Sam faster?” Gavriel just looked at him and Ciel snapped, “You may be the Lion of Doranelle but  _I_  am the Crown Prince of two kingdoms and I do  _not_ answer to the likes of  _you_.”

* * *

Sam inhaled sharply, staring down at the witch before him. She had a look on her face, one he had seen plenty of times on Lyria’s. Annoyance. “If you’re here to kill me,” Sam said raggedly, “get on with it. You witches are getting tedious and predictable with the whipping and the questioning.”

Screams echoed around the mountains outside the cave and the witch’s head whipped around, her shoulders tightening. Sam gave the witch a pained smile. “Tick tock. It sounds like my mate and sister are killing your friends. You don’t have much time.”

The witch faced him, her iron teeth slamming down. “I would love to gut you like the fae bastard you are but alas I owe a life debt to the Crochan Queen. I am paying her back by saving her brat’s mate’s life. The next time we meet again Sam Galathynius we’ll once again be on opposing sides.”

Sam blinked and blinked again. She was going to let him go? Just like that? The witch pulled a chain from around her neck- a key- and unlocked the iron cuffs holding his wrists and ankles. Sam nearly collapsed and sobbed with relief as the shackles fell away.

The witch put a blade in his hand. “Give me twenty minutes to disarm the Wyrdmarks around this place and then burn it to the ground. Your sister and prince are close enough they’ll see your flames. I’m sure even you can handle that?”

Before Sam could answer her, the witch whirled around and stalked into the darkness, exiting the cave. Sam looked down at his wrists, at the skin rubbed raw from the iron over the past gods knew how many days. He closed his eyes and centered himself, standing weakly, bracing his hand on the rock wall. Waiting.

* * *

Lyria stalked up to Ciel and pushed him away from her mate. Her mind reeled at the admission from her best friend’s mouth but it explained how Sam got shot in the first place. If he and Ciel were fighting.. he wouldn’t have been paying attention to his surroundings. And she saw those wounds on his neck and shoulders… scented Ciel on him. But she hadn’t put two and two together. And they kept it from  _her_! How long had this been going on? “Calm down and watch your rutting  _mouth_ ,” she growled at him. “He was just being thorough.”

Ciel faced her, his dyed hair hanging limply around him in the rain, his face hard as granite. “Of course the Ice Princess is going to defend the Cat,” Ciel said coolly, knowingly smug. “Can’t help it can you? I know the feeling.”

 Her eyes narrowed and Ciel whirled away from her, stalking further into the mountain pass, searching witch bodies and then burning them. She knew that look on his face, one where he knew everything. He knew Gavriel was her mate. She had been subtle damnit!

She shot a look at Gavriel, the Lion watched Ciel go on ahead of them. “Feel better now that Ciel blew up on you?”

Gavriel looked down at her. “He needed to get it out of his system before we found Sam. If it came down to a fight to get to the Prince, an unhinged witch with raw magic could cause far more harm than good.”

 She opened and closed her mouth and then gaped at him. “You knew they had sex! Am I the only one who didn’t know?! Why didn’t you tell me! I thought we were friends!”

Gavriel smiled, his tawny eyes glittering as they started forward, following after Ciel. “Apologizes Princess. I figured someone as brilliant as yourself had figured that out ages ago.”

She elbowed him. “You think I’m brilliant,” she cooed, looking at him beneath long lashes. “Don’t worry Kitty- Cat, I’m sure you’re just as clever as I am.”

“Obviously,” Gavriel said, elbowing her back, running his damp hair behind his pointed ear. “I figured Sam and Ciel out years ago.”

She scowled at him and started up ahead after her best friend, listening to the low rumble of a chuckle coming from Gavriel behind her.

* * *

Rajni lifted her eyes to see her sister standing at her doorway. Abraxi’s bare arms were folded over her corseted chest, her hair hanging around her in ebony waves, natural black unlike their brother. She flipped the page in her book. “Well spit it out, Brax. Or are you just going to stand there staring at me?”

“Did you see her?”

Rajni closed her book and sat it on the couch beside her. “I’m assuming we’re talking about the witchling that was left on our doorstep? Yes I saw her. She’s beautiful.”

Abraxi waltzed the rest of the way into her room, her black dress rustling around her. Rajni suppressed an eyeroll about her twin’s ridiculous need to look her best every second of every day; it had to be exhausting. Abraxi sat across from her and twirled her hair. “You think she’s really his? Ciel’s?”

Rajni tilted her head and thought about it. “Well,” Rajni started, “She does have those mismatched angled eyes. Same as Ciel’s. Mother seems certain and you know how she is about these kinds of things.”

Abraxi’s sapphire eyes glittered. “I can’t believe our brother had a kid at nineteen. I thought it was hard for witches to conceive.”

Rajni snorted. “Our brother is a slut. Are you really surprised?”

Abraxi burst out laughing.

“You really shouldn’t say such things about Ciel, Raj.” A voice said lightly. Rajni lifted her eyes to see Nadia leaning against the doorway, her arms folded over her chest, brown hair braided over her shoulder. “He’s your brother.”

Rajni flung her arms across the back of the sofa and lifted her chin, giving the Captain of the Guard a half-lazy grin. “I’m  _kidding_. Kind of. Besides I think nine months ago Ciel was nursing a heartbreak from Terressen’s own Sam Galathynius. Probably wasn’t thinking clearly when he tumbled that blond girl. Speaking of, what did you find on the mysterious Yvonne.”

Nadia pushed off the wall and walked over to her, the owl pommel of her sword glittering in the firelight. “Single. Seventeen. Human. Just a girl from town. No title or anything.”

Abraxi frowned and Rajni arched a brow. “Who wants to bet she was chosen for her uncanny appearance and opportunity?”

Nadia glowered at her. “You know, you keep doing my job for me. It’s getting really annoying,  _Princess_.”

Rajni cut her a glare. “Shut it,  _Healer_.”

Nadia’s nostrils flared as she sat back, resting a hand lazily on her sword, her golden-brown eyes narrowed on her. “I am  _Captain_ and you are a spoiled  _brat,_ Your Highness.” She settled into the couch, grinning at Rajni’s deepening glare. “ _Anyways_ ,” Nadia said, swinging her eyes from Rajni to Abraxi, “the girl said she and Ciel met at a bar, had one night together and both of them went opposite ways the next morning. She realized she was pregnant a month later and was too afraid to tell him.”

“So what made her leave the baby? You’d think if the girl was afraid of telling the father she wouldn’t just leave the baby with  _him_ ,” Abraxi mused. “Maybe she was just afraid because Ciel’s royalty. Or maybe it’s because he’s a witch?”            

“What did she think would happen?” Rajni deadpanned. “That Ciel would eat her heart for getting pregnant? They all like the idea of fucking a witch but are scared shirtless when it comes to telling one something they think they don’t want to hear.” Rajni shifted her eyes to Nadia. “I don’t want that girl anywhere near my niece again. Understand? She lost any right to her the minute she left an infant on our doorstep.”

Nadia dipped her head and nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.” Nadia sighed. “Yvonne said that she thought she could take care of her and she tried but it was too much. She figured the baby would have a better chance with her father. Besides,” Nadia said, examining the ends of her braid. “It’s not like the baby could grow up anywhere near here or even in this  _country_  without it soon being figured out who she belonged to. Those eyes are a dead giveaway. Especially once it was revealed the girl was a witch.”

* * *

Ciel’s heart was hollow in his chest. He couldn’t get that night out of his head. Sam’s face. It had been so betrayed and so angry and so guilty and sad all at once. He had regretted the words coming out of his own mouth. He knew Sam. He knew Sam didn’t do anything without a reason and there was a reason for him refusing to admit to the feelings they both knew Sam had for him. He  _had_  been such a heartless prick to him. No wonder Sam wouldn’t do anything.

The rain came down harder, almost as if it could sense his emotions. Lyria came up beside him, her face blank though there was a small smile on her face from Gavriel. She hesitated and then slid her eyes to him in silent questioning.

“Just ask,” Ciel sighed, hunching down, looking in the next witch’s clothing, looking for some kind of evidence as to where Sam was in these mountains. Once again, he found nothing.

He stood engulfed the witch’s body with flame and moved on to the next body.

“How long has it been going on?” Lyria asked, looking through the next witch’s clothing with him. “You and Sam, I mean.”

Ciel sighed once again. “It started when I was seventeen, when we were all at the ball in Adalarn. Most of it was drunk hook ups, except for that last time. I was upset about killing the witches and I just… I just wanted to get lost in Sam and forget about it. But it all backfired.”

Lyria smiled softly, stepping back from the witch’s body. “It is easy, isn’t it? Getting lost in my brother. Sam has an uncanny ability to make all your troubles go away.”

  Ciel engulfed the witch’s body in flame and looked at his friend. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Sam didn’t want you to know.”

Lyria’s face scrunched up. “I’m assuming he felt bad because you’re my best friend. And with him thinking there was something between us… maybe he felt ashamed for threatening that nonexistent relationship.”

  “Doesn’t help you’re a horrible gossip,” Ciel added. She rolled his eyes. “I am in love with your brother and he won’t admit to what’s between us. Yes, he doesn’t know about the bond, but…” He looked at Lyria and swallowed thickly. “What if he doesn’t want me, even with the bond? Some of the things I have said to him…”

  Lyria came around the body and ran a lock of wet hair behind his ear. “Ciel Blackbeak Havilliard. You may be arrogant and say things without thinking a lot of the godsdamned time but… This is Sam we’re talking about. He didn’t keep his distance from you because of your mouth. He kept his distance from you to protect you. And I think… I think that after all of this, you should just tell him. Lay it all out on the table and let him decide once and for all.”

Ciel arched a brow. “You mean like  _you_?”

Blush rose on Lyria’s face and as she went to respond, the mountains around them erupted in blue and gold flame. Ciel’s heart stopped clean in his chest.

_Sam._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world around them was flame. Gold and turquoise and red flame. The smell of rotting flesh and burning wood and stone filled Ciel’s nose as he stared wide-eyed at the destruction around them. It was Sam. Sam was doing this.
> 
> He looked to see the Crown Princess staring at the flame covering mile upon mile of terrain. Sam was going to burn out. His mate was going to burn out. He could feel the thread between the two of them begin to unravel.

_He felt pain. Pure unbridled pain in his shoulder and chest and neck. His heart was a thunderous thing in his body, pounding through every inch of him. As was terror. So much terror and pain that had Sam snapping his eyes open to see a swirl of silver and green on a ceiling. He was in his room._

_Sam looked around his room wide-eyed, looking for Ciel. He found nothing but his usual squalor and it had him getting up from his bed and instantly regretting it as even more pain laced throughout his body._

_He gritted his teeth and forced himself forward but only made it three steps before he was bracing one of the bedposts with an ironclad grip and bent over, trying to draw breath through the ache shooting through him. And in seconds, the doors were slammed open and his mother stalking through. “Sam Galathynius, you get your rutting ass_ back  _in that bed right this minute.”_

_It was an order. Not from a mother but from a queen._

_Sam forced himself upright and stared down his mother, albeit it was a rather painful stare but it was a stare nonetheless. “I want to see Ciel.”_

_“And I want you in bed and since I am the Queen, you will listen to me and give me what I want.”_

_He did no such thing and forced his eyes to stay on hers. “I want. To see. Ciel. Mother.” Flame danced at her fingertips and Sam rose his chin, refusing to cow beneath his mother’s gaze. “You want me in that bed, you’ll give me what_ I _want.”_

_Her eyes went to his neck and narrowed before flicking back to his. Glittering. Why was she looking at him like that? “Fine. Get your ass back in bed and I’ll get him. He’s been wearing a hole in our carpeting and was forced by Lyria to train with her.”_

_He didn’t know what that meant but he turned around and made his way back to his bed. He held in a breath as he carefully laid back down in the sheets with pain lacing every movement. Tears pricked in the back of his eyes as his head fell onto his pillow._ Fuck.

_“Hey Boyo.”_

_Sam opened his eyes to see Fenrys and his father looking down at him with grim smiles on their faces. His father’s pine eyes went to the bandaging and darkened. “What happened?”_

_Sam’s mind went backwards, trying and reaching back into the past few days and drew a complete blank. “I don’t know.”_

_Fenrys blinked. “What do you remember?”_

_“I was fighting a group of witches with Ciel.” He tried sitting back up, only for Fenrys to push him back down. Sam nearly snarled at him. “Let me up.”_

_“Sam?”_

_His eyes went past his father and Fenrys to see Ciel standing there in pure black leathers, his moonwhite hair a mess of a braid and his face etched in worry as he slowly came up to him. Sam’s nostrils flared, scenting himself on the witch. It was faint, very faint, but-_

What the hell.

 _He looked at his father and Fenrys, who were also looking between the witch and him. “_ Get out _,” Sam said. “I want to talk to Ciel alone.”_

_Fenrys and his father exchanged looks but Sam only had eyes for Ciel, who’s eyes were trained on the floor. Neither he or Ciel said a word until they were both out of earshot. Fae earshot. “Sam, I’m so sorry,” Ciel whispered raggedly, tears falling from on face._

_“For what?”_

_Ciel’s upturned eyes lifted to his own and were wide. “You don’t remember?”_

_Panic started to settle in. “Remember what? Why is my scent on you? Did we…”_

Did I fuck my best friend? My  _sister’s_ best friend?

 _Color rose up on Ciel’s cheeks and Sam blinked._ Oh Gods.

_Ciel opened and closed his mouth and then rubbed the back of his neck. “It meant nothing, Sam.” He said firmly. “Okay. It meant nothing at all. We were just- we were bored. That’s it. I was the one to instigate the whole thing.”_

_Something was wrong with Ciel’s voice, it was strained and almost a little sad but he couldn’t place why he’d lie to him to begin with so he took him by his word, even though his heart sunk a little. A part of him wanted there to be_ some _thing between him and the witch but with whatever was going on between Ciel and Lyria and the fact that there was the constant target on his back, it was better this way. And would be easier without Ciel seeing him as anything other than a friend._

_“Is that why I got shot?”_

_Ciel’s face turned to icy granite. “It had nothing to do with you getting shot. A rogue witch escaped us the first time and came back at us when we weren’t paying attention to our surroundings and shot you. I ripped her heart out.”_

_Sam nearly flinched at that and pain slammed back into him, making him nearly arch his back and light something on fire. “I’m sorry,” he said in a strained voice._

_Ciel’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he sat on the edge of his bed and ran a lock of hair behind Sam’s pointed ear. “Its what friends are for, Sam. You would have done the same for me.” He would have. He absolutely would have and it terrified him._

* * *

His fire was rising higher and higher in his veins as he forced himself upright and take step after step to the mouth of the cave. His anger, his pain, his  _rage_ rose with the flames in his blood and ignited around him.

Sam Galathynius let the fire rage around him and reduce the world to ash. He didn’t think about the people he loved, he didn’t think about the wildlife or the trees or his kingdom. He thought about the darkness, the iron, the whip. He thought about the pain coursing through him and he let it all  _burn_.

* * *

The world around them was flame. Gold and turquoise and red flame. The smell of rotting flesh and burning wood and stone filled Ciel’s nose as he stared wide-eyed at the destruction around them. It was Sam. Sam was doing this.

He looked to see the Crown Princess staring at the flame covering mile upon mile of terrain. Sam was going to burn out. His  _mate_ was going to burn out. He could feel the thread between the two of them begin to unravel.

_No._

 “Stay here,” Lyria ordered.

Her voice was very inch of a queen as Gavriel tried holding her back, only for her to burn him with ice. Gavriel roared as frost traveled up his arms, forcing him to let her go. She didn’t so much as hesitate from shifting and flying into the flames.

“ _Lyria_!”

Ciel let out a sharp whistle while the Lion of Doranelle shifted and ran after her. Thunderous flapping and shrieking filled the air as Abraxos lowered to him. Ciel climbed on him and ordered, “ _Fly_.”

* * *

Lyria forced herself to not veer from the flames. It felt like her blood was boiling and she could feel so  _so_ much pain through her and Sam’s bond. She could feel him start to unravel from her and panic rose up violently in her as she flew harder towards her brother.

She shifted back and coated herself in ice as she went up to her brother. Her eyes burned and she flew her arm over her face as she looked at Sam’s golden hair and broken body licked with flames, his turquoise eyes were solid gold.

“Sam!”

Her brother didn’t hear her. He didn’t recognize her. She tried scrambling for the bond between them, the  _Carranam_ bond, their  _twin_ bond but it was no use as her brother’s flames continued reaching for the sky.

Lyria applied sheet after sheet of ice as she managed a step and then another. Gods she could feel pain, so  _so_ much pain in his flames, see so much on his face as he tried burning it away. “ _Sam! Please!_ ”

But Sam didn’t. Sam either wouldn’t or couldn’t as he let his magic pull him away. Any tears that would try to slip onto her face evaporated instantly.

Her throat burned. It bled as she screamed for her brother again and again. Hoarse sobs broke from her throat as she screamed. Lyria did not think about her kingdom or her mate or her friends. She thought about her brother. The male that hid behind books, that felt  _everything_ , standing in front of her, burning himself out.

_Don’t leave me._

* * *

Ciel built up layer upon layer of ice upon himself as Abraxos flew into the flames. He didn’t register the feeling of his iron wanting to melt in his body or the forest burning around them. He only saw his mate and his body red and blue and shredded to pieces from the witches,  _his_ people.            

He unmounted Abraxos and barely managed to reach Sam. He looked at Sam’s solid gold eyes and golden hair whipping in the winds. Plan after plan tried and failed to form into his mind and Ciel did the most reckless, most idiotic thing he had ever done.

He grabbed Sam’s tanned face and brought it down to his in a crushing kiss. He ignored the taste of blood and pushed deeper into Sam’s lips. And slowly, so slowly, Sam pushed back into the kiss. The forest fire around them began to wink out as Sam came back to him.

Ciel nearly sobbed in relief as he had his arm around Sam’s waist, keeping him from dropping. His stomach turned at the feeling of the ridges on Sam’s back. He had been torn apart.  _Torn apart_  and he was still breathing, still kissing him.

Sam pulled away first and he looked down at him, searching his face for an answer. Neither of them registered Gavriel appearing or shifting back into his fae form. Or Lyria looking at him. Ciel only had eyes for Sam, whose beautiful turquoise gold rimmed eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“I love you,” Sam said.

And before he could respond, before he could say  _I love you_ , Sam collapsed in his arms, dropping both of them to the stone beneath them. He had barely twisted them so that Sam would fall on him and not the other way around.

“ _Sam_!” Lyria nearly shrieked.

Pain laced through his body from the impact. Sam was a solid wall of muscle despite preferring to read books. Ciel carefully moved Sam onto his back with the aid of Gavriel.

He knelt, trying to brace Sam’s battered face. But it burned. His entire body glowed, steam billowing from the rain. He looked up at Gavriel’s tight expression. “What do we do?”

“Call for Abraxos,” Gavriel said, scooping Sam into his arms. His face contorted and he let out a slow breath. “We need to get him to water and you two need to freeze it.”

Ciel let out a sharp whistle as confliction warred on Lyria’s. Confliction to get her brother help and to get her mate away from the pain but then it schooled into a ferocity he had rarely seen as Abraxos touched down. “Get Sam to water.”

The wyvern all but nodded as Gavriel got Sam on him. He climbed on behind and Lyria shifted. The winds whipped through Ciel’s hair as Abraxos flew as if Death chased after them. He would not lose Sam. He would not lose him. He  _refused_.

He was the crown prince to two kingdoms and he had the blood of Mala Firebringer herself in his veins. He would  _not_ let that cruel bitch take Sam away from him. Not now and not like this.

They touched down on the ground and Gavriel hauled Sam to the water’s edge. Lyria appeared beside him as they cast out their magic, freezing and refreezing the lake water as Gavriel got Sam into it.

Billows of steam rose from Sam’s tanned skin as the ice formed and melted around him and Gavriel. Gavriel dipped Sam into the water as Ciel watched Lyria’s pine eyes slide up from Sam’s unconscious form to the welts across Gavriel’s chest and arms. Her face tightened.

They weren’t bad. They were nowhere near as bad as they could have been. In fact they most likely wouldn’t scar at all, thanks to his shielding. He could see her struggling to not give in to that primal desire to protect him. Gavriel’s lion eyes lifted from Sam to her and they softened. “I’m okay, Princess. Nothing a little salve won’t fix.”

She nodded a little and turned her attention back to refreezing the water. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he delved deeper into his magic. He ignored the feeling of his well depleting itself as the thread between him and Sam weaved itself back together.

He was instantly in the lake, with the water up to his chest, as Sam’s eyes fluttered open. A sob choked in Ciel’s throat as he cupped Sam’s cooling face. Sam lifted his bleary and confused eyes up to his. “Ciel?”

It was hoarse and bleeding, as if he had swallowed scream after scream. An icy fury and sadness combatted inside him violently as Ciel brushed Sam’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, Sam. I love you so much it hurts to breathe.”

He wasn’t sure what he had meant to say. It wasn’t that but it was what had come out anyways. With everything between them, every unsaid word, every kiss and touch, He needed Sam to know. Even if they stayed friends forever, even if he could never  _truly_ have Sam, it needed to be said. Gods be damned.

Soaking fingers wrapped around his wrist as Sam looked him over with a painful alarmed expression. “Are you okay?”

Ciel’s head fell and nearly laughed. This wasn’t funny. Nothing about this was funny at all but it was just such a  _Sam_  thing to say. “I’m okay, Princeling. I swear it.” He looked Sam’s torn up body over, the ice he and the crown princess of Terressen were pouring out cooling everything around them. “Lion, is he okay?”

 “I’d like to be let  _go._ ” Sam said crossly, struggling in Gavriel’s arms.

“Hush and stop moving.” Lyria said, looking her brother over. “I’m the oldest. You’ll listen to me.”

Sam’s brows flattened as he refused to obey his sister’s orders. “We’re twins,” he said, nonplussed. “We’re the same age.”

A wince feathered in Gavriel’s face as he carried Sam to land. “You nearly burned yourself out, Prince. You can’t use your magic for a while. Let yourself heal,” the lion said, settling Sam on the land below.

* * *

It would have been a funny sight, to see Gavriel carrying Sam. Both males built of solid muscle and both with a handful of inches over six feet. But the wounds on Sam, the ugly red welts on her mate, it made none of this funny.

She swallowed a growl in her throat as she stalked out of the lake to her twin brother. Sam laid out flat on his back, arched and breathing through clenched teeth. His pain flickered in their bond and she pressed a chilled hand to his face. “ _Relax._ ”

He let out a ragged breath and Lyria used that bit of water, that bit of their Mother’s salvation, to heal Sam. His face began to relax and Lyria nodded encouragingly, letting the water search out more of his wounds. “There we go,” she coaxed. “Just breathe.”

Sam’s eyes opened and he looked up at her through the drenched locks of his golden hair. “Where were you.” Her heart shattered at the hurt and smallness of his voice. “Where were you and Ciel? We’re you-”

Ciel winced and Lyria could have sworn Gavriel’s attention was focused almost solely on her as he checked Sam’s wounds.

Lyria clasped Sam’s hand and squeezed it. “There is nothing,  _nothing,_ going on between me and Ciel. I swear on my crown. There is  _nothing_. Okay?” Gavriel’s eyes flicked up to her as she reassured her brother. “We had been talking about you. I’m so sorry we left you.”

Sam’s gaze flickered as he studied her face, looking everywhere but her eyes. And then they shifted to Ciel. “They said we were mates. That you were my mate and you knew it.”

Lyria almost,  _almost,_ looked at Gavriel. One look, one glance and the Lion of Doranelle would know every lie, every carefully crafted half-truth. He knew her. He knew her well enough to know the tells she had. Last thing she needed was Gavriel to know they were mates.

* * *

Abraxi stalked down the hallway towards her rooms. She could barely keep the bitterness out of her heart. She was happy for Ciel, happy he’d have his own family. But of course he had a  _witchling_. She was doomed to be the only human among them all. Besides her father, that is.

She turned the corner and went to find Cenric. It didn’t take her long to find the brown eyed guard stationed outside the throne room. All it took was one look from her before he followed after her to the broom closet.

They slipped inside silently and he immediately had her pressed against the wall. He looked down at her hungrily, his calloused hands trailing the plane of her torso. “Rough day, Princess?”

She ignored the teasing lilt of his voice and hooked her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down onto hers. She did not want to flirt, she wanted to get lost in his weight on hers, his mouth on her skin.

Cenric pressed kisses down her jaw as he ground against her. They both ignored the clang of the pommel of his sword against the wall. “I hear Nadia found a baby on the palace steps,” he said between kisses. “A witchling.”

 “She did,” Abraxi murmured against his neck. “It’s Ciel’s.”

Cenric froze against her and looked down at her, his brown eyes shaded with deeply amused surprise. “Your  _brother_  has a kid?”

She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Pretty sure. Now kiss me before I go find someone else to do the job.”

A smile spread his lips as he gripped her chin and pulled her lips up to his. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

She let him kiss her senseless, let his broad hand slide up her skirts. Cenric’s lips took her apart slowly and she forgot about being a princess, she forgot about being the only human among her siblings, the only one without a lick of magic in her veins.

Abraxi slipped her hands up his tunic and shirt, tracing the hard dip of muscle in Cenric’s chest. He growled low in his throat as he cradled her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks as he kissed her deeply.

The closet door burst open and Cenric was apart from her in half a second. They stared at the King’s Hand with heaving chests, blushing rising up on her face and Cenric’s. It took everything to not grimace at the scowl on Chaol Westfall’s face as he flicked his eyes to Cenric. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Cenric visibly swallowed. “Hello Father.”

Chaol’s lips tightened as he braced the doorframe. “I could have your rank dropped for  _abandoning_ your post. I hope this was worth the three weeks of double duty you’re going to be pulling.”

Cenric looked at her, his coppery eyes searching her face. His lips twitched up and he looked back at his father. “It was.”

Chaol’s gaze shuddered as he looked between them and he let out a sharp breath. “Straighten your uniform and your hair and get  _back_  to your post. We’ll have a talk about your blatant disregard for your post tonight after dinner.”

Cenric didn’t have to be told twice as he straightened himself and swaggered out of the closet. Chaol waited for a handful of heartbeats before turning his brown eyes to her. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Abraxi.”

And with that, the king’s hand left her alone and walked away.

* * *

Cenric couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he walked back through the palace halls to his previous post. Sorcha Abraxi Havilliard was many things: Spoiled, temperamental, a brat. But she was also genuine, warm and funny. And she always made his day better. So yes, the three weeks of double duty was worth it.

He sensed his father coming up to walk in step with him. He barely suppressed his eyeroll. “Just get on with it, Father.”

“Do you think what you’re doing with Abraxi is smart?” he asked in a low voice. “She is a  _princess_.”

He whirled on his father and couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice. “And I am a Lord.”

His father gave him a stern look and Cenric sighed painfully. “Father. I haven’t  _fucked_ her. We are both well aware of our stations. I know that she’ll have to marry someday. And I know she’s not going to be marrying me. So just- Just  _stop_.”

There was almost pity in his father’s- his- coppery brown eyes as he clasped Cenric’s shoulder. “While I do worry for the princess, I worry for you foremost. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Abraxi and I have an understanding. No one’s going to get hurt.”

His father raised a brow, his eyes glittering with knowing. “You sure about that?”

Cenric swallowed thickly and it was an effort to not break eye contact. “I’m positive. There’s no feelings involved. We’re just friends. She just wanted a distraction and I was more than willing to give her one. We haven’t had sex. At all.”

His father studied his face for what felt like forever before nodding slowly and saying, “Very well. Get back to your post.”

Cenric inclined his head and whirled back around, stalking down the hallway. He and Abraxi had very firm lines in place, lines he would  _never_ cross. While his heart and head usually became a mess around the Princess, he would not risk her standing as a lady or a princess to sate himself.

Cenric groaned when he found his older sister waiting for him at his pervious post with her arms crossed and chin lifted. Gods she was  _mad._  He held up his hands in surrender before she could give him the tongue lashing he deserved. “Father all ready gave me a lecture, Nadia. I don’t need one from you too.”

His sister stepped forward. “Wrong, little brother.  _I_ am the Captain of the Guard and  _you_ are under  _my_ orders. You can’t just take off from your post to go neck some  _girl_. You have a duty to the Crown. I just found a  _baby_ for Gods sakes.”

Some girl. His sister did not know that  _girl_ was the Princess of Adalarn. And if he wished to keep his station as a palace guard, she  _wouldn’t_ know. Nadia took her job seriously and wouldn’t risk the safety of everyone in the castle over some forbidden romance. If he were to call it such.

Cenric ran a hand through his cropped hair and gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Captain. It won’t happen again. You have my word.”

Nadia gave him a long, leveled look. “Very well. I’ll see you at dinner. Be prepared to tell me who finally got the attention of Cenric Westfall.”

* * *

Aelin got to her feet and  _ran_  when she felt her lunch starting to turn violently in her stomach. She barely made it to the toilet before she was heaving the contents of her stomach. She wiped her mouth and rested her forehead against the rim as she blindly flushed the toilet.

Her children needed to come home. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could put up with. Her worry and nerves were going to  _kill her_.

She took slow even breaths when she felt a presence beside her and a broad, firm hand to her back. She looked up at her husband’s tight face, looked up at his pine eyes looking her over, his nostrils flaring as he scented her.

His eyes widened and her hand went to her stomach. “I had thought it was because of the twins,” she murmured. “They’ve been gone for nearly two weeks and we haven’t gotten so much as a word from them.”

Rowan knelt down beside her and ran a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Do you want me to check on them?”

It was on the tip of her tongue. To tell him  _yes_. She had felt something wrong all week and with Sam nearly  _dying_  all those months before. She had lost one Sam. She could not - _would not_ \- lose another one. She would not lose her Brightheart.

But she shook her head. “No. I want you with me.”

He studied her face and nodded once before pressing a kiss to her brow and helping her stand. “Then that’s where I’ll be. They’ll be alright, Fireheart. Their magic surpasses even ours and if that fails, they’re their own weapons.”

 _And where was that when Sam was_ whipped  _within an inch of his life?_

Though, that was and always will be her own fault. They had wanted her, they had wanted Aelin of the Wildfire and when they couldn’t get to her, they went after her son. Her son, who had been so adamant about  _not_ training, about  _not_ fighting, and she gave him what he wanted. So when they came, Sam had not been prepared and the fae took their grievances out on an eleven year old boy who just wanted to be left alone to read.

At least now- at least now Sam was able to defend himself. At least now Sam was his own weapon if need be.

Tears pricked behind her eyes and she rubbed them with her palms, willing her heart to calm down so she didn’t light the washroom curtains on fire. She inhaled sharply and let it out slowly. “Think you can deal with a hormonal queen for the next eight months?”

Rowan arched a brow. “Your hormonal state and your regular state aren’t much different Fireheart.”

She smacked his chest and scowled at him. “Rude. I’m the kindest most sweetest female in the whole world, Buzzard. Ask anyone.”

Rowan gave her one of his rare easy smiles, his pine green eyes crinkling as he looked down at her. “Lorcan?”

“Okay not him.”

A low rumble of laughter escaped from Rowan and they both looked behind them when the familiar scent of Lysandra appeared at the doorway. Aelin frowned at the tightness of the shifter’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“You have a visitor. Petrah Blueblood. She says its important.”

Aelin blinked.  _What the-_

“Tell her we’ll be out in a moment. I need to brush my teeth.”

Lysandra’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her green eyes and she nodded before leaving. Aelin looked at her husband’s troubled expression. “What could the Bloodbloods possibly want? You think it’s about the kids?”

Rowan shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But we better find out.”

* * *

Rowan calmed the building dread in his veins as he stalked down the hallway on his wife’s heel. They passed the fae guards. Each guard stiffened as they scented the air around them. They knew Aelin Galathynius was pregnant and it was their job to make sure nothing came to harm the unborn child in her womb.  _His_ child.

They entered the throne room to see Petrah Blueblood waiting for them. She was the picture of patience and calm as Aelin took her throne and lazily crossed her legs, propping her chin on a fist.

Anyone who didn’t know Aelin Galathynius would see a temperamental, arrogant brat with how she looked at the witch. They would not see Adalarn’s assassin, they would not see the forty-seven year old fae queen sizing up the centuries old ironteeth witch. “What can I do for you, Petrah Blueblood,” Aelin purred.

“I’ve had a vision,” the witch said. “About the child you’re carrying.”

Both he and Aelin stiffened.

“Clear out,” Rowan barked at the court. “ _Now._ ”

 Lorcan’s black eyes narrowed as he looked between the three of them but was soon dragged out of the room by Marion and Elide.

Everyone else moved as fast as possible for the doors and Aelin stood from her throne and stepped down the dais, every step laced with raw regal power as she approached the Blueblood. Her fingers trembled at her sides. “What about my baby?”

“You will have a son born on the longest night of the year,” Petrah said clearly. “He’ll possess both ice and natural shadowfire. And he’ll be a foothold to another world. The child you are carrying will change  _everything._ ”

* * *

Aelin’s stomach churned again. She didn’t know which was worse: the other world or the shadowfire. To see pure beautiful red and gold flames twist and turn into that of smoke and darkness. It had been the valg that had turned Kaltain’s flames into what they were but they had started out as pure flame. What did it say when someone born of them?

“What else can you tell us?” Rowan asked quietly.

Petrah flicked her eyes to him. “Help him control his magic. Train him harder than you’ve trained anyone. Make sure he is born of love and light. Make sure he is happy. He’ll have trouble making friends and for someone with that kind of power, it is a very dangerous thing indeed.”

Aelin let out a slow, steady breath as she absorbed all of this. It felt as if for not the first time in her life, her world turned on its side and spun violently. It was an effort to not vomit all over the Blueblood’s shoes.

She looked at Rowan. Her heart clenched at his tight tattooed face and troubled pine eyes. Her husband slowly nodded. “Is he going to attract enemies?  _Is he going to be the enemy_.

Aelin’s fire rose in her veins at the thought of having to defend the world from her own blood. Would she be able to strike down her own son? She already had so much taken from her. So much had been taken from  _Rowan._ Could either of them truly do such a thing.

“The future is a fluid thing,” Petrah said, splaying her hands. “Always in motion, always changing.”

“That’s not an answer, witch,” Rowan ground out, the air dropping several degrees.

_Shit._

Petrah appeared unbothered, her beautiful face the picture of tranquil. “But it’s the truth. There are divots. Key events that will take place throughout time that are marked by the gods. But how we get to those places, it is always in flux. But know this, your son will have troubles. He will have to choose between his duties and his crown more than once. He will have to choose between Night and his family.”

“What does that even  _mean_ ,” Aelin snapped. “I’m assuming you don’t actually mean the night, right? It’s some bullshit metaphor meant to give me a  _bigger_ migraine.”

Petrah flicked her deep blue eyes to her, her iron-star crown glittering in the sconce fae light. “Yes and no. It is not night as we know it but it is Night all the same. Wings and talons. Eyes of violet and hair of the darkest black.”

Aelin froze and she nearly reduced everything to ash. Maeve. It was Maeve. It had to be- But- But she killed her. She burned her to nothing. She and her godsforsaken spiders.  _She killed her_. What would-  _how_ would she affect the boy inside of her?

Aelin barely felt the broad hand of her husband at the small of her back as Rowan said firmly, “When.”

“I am not sure of when,” the witch said. “But I do know it is after he has settled. He  _will_ meet Night. He  _will_ have to choose. And it is a choice only he can make, Aelin of Wildfire. You cannot make it for him. You cannot shield him. He must choose alone.”

“ _Watch me_ ,’ Aelin snarled.

* * *

Abraxi walked back to her rooms after carefully readjusting her dress. She could still feel Cenric’s powerful body on top of hers, could still feel his lips on her neck. Guilt struck her. Guilt for pulling him from his duty and for the amount of work he would now be doing.

She debated on walking out to the kennels to see if Cupcake had given birth yet and decided against it when she found her twin sister sitting cross-legged on the couch in her room with a cup of tea and a thickly bound leather book.

Rajni lifted her gold eyes up to her and looked her over. Abraxi always felt stripped bare when her sister looked at her like that. Her twin sister who was the same age as she, who looked the same age as she: seventeen. And yet… and yet there would come a time when Rajni would stop aging with her and would be forever young, watching her sister grow old and die.

“You know there’s more interesting places to have sex than a closet, yes?”

Abraxi narrowed her eyes as she sat across from her on the couch. “I was  _not_ having sex.”

Rajni studied her for a long moment before closing her book and placing it on the coffee table. “Why not?  I’m sure the Westfall boy is more than willing.”

Heat rose up in her face and she nearly grumbled  _You’d be surprised_. But she just crossed her arms and sunk into the couch. “I’m a  _human_ princess. I don’t get to just fuck my brains out like you and our brother. I live by different rules than you do.”

An almost pity crossed Rajni’s eyes and she cocked her head. “You know no one would care, not here.”

“Key word there, Nini.” Rajni glowered at the nickname. “‘Here’. I have to deal with princes from other kingdoms, all with a clear take on what a princess should be. And Cenric, that  _honorable idiot_ , won’t risk my standing.”

Rajni studied her, her nails clicking on the back of the couch. “How sweet.”

Abraxi shrugged. “Sweet, yes. Infuriating, more so. Besides, we’re just friends.” She stretched out her feet onto her sister’s lap. “Why don’t you tell me what Mother and Father plan to do with the baby. I’d rather not talk about my doomed love life.”

Rajni pushed her feet off and said, “They’re debating taking her to Terressen. Gods know when Ciel’s going to be back. Hopefully he’ll be in better shape this time.”      

* * *

The ache managed to subside as Sam struggled into a sitting position. He forced himself to look directly at Ciel’s mismatched eyes. The witch’s face paled at the hard pain-laced look Sam was giving him.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, we are and I did. I  _did_  know. But Sam-”

Hurt and anger raged inside him. “How long have you known,” Sam demanded, too weak to keep the pain out of his voice. “Before or after I fucked you all those months ago. Is that why you’ve been so adamant with teasing me to the point of me  _biting_ you? You just wanted to see how far you could push the ‘freak’ fae prince into losing control. It’s infinitely more fun when he’s your  _mate_.”

Ciel recoiled inward with each word, with each accusation pouring out of Sam. But he couldn’t help it. This was all just so much and the fact he  _lied_  to his face. He had said that it meant nothing. That they had been bored. He was a  _liar._

Lyria gaped at him. “ _Sam._ ”

He didn’t so much as give his sister a glance as he looked up at his mate. “Shut up Lyria,” Sam said harshly. Gavriel growled. “I deserved to know, Ciel. I  _deserved_  to  _know_. How long have you been _lying_ to me?”

 Ciel dropped down to his knees and rested his hands on his thighs, his mismatched eyes bright. “I’ve known since the arrow,” he said coldly. “And I decided to not tell you because what would you have  _done_? Be with me out of duty to a bond? I’ve been basically throwing myself at you and you  _won’t choose me_. I don’t want you to be with me because of a rutting  _bond_. I’m not  _that_ pathetic.”

Fire started roiling in his veins. “I don’t care about the  _fucking_ _bond_ ,” Sam snarled. Both Lyria and Ciel blinked wide-eyed. “I have had targets on me since the day I was  _born_. I have been held and whipped and tormented long before I was old enough to know I preferred males. Anyone-  _anyone_ \- I dare love, anyone I dare care for could be taken and used against me and  _you_ ,” Sam’s breath shuddered. “I love you. I always  _have_. And if I asked you to pick between me and your people, you’d choose me and I. Can’t.  _Take. It_.”

Ciel’s chest heaved as he looked at him, tears slipping down his tawny face. The bare-naked truth finally laid out between them. His own chest heaved, tears falling from his eyes as he looked at this male, this male he would follow into the darkest of hells, to whatever end, without a flicker of hesitation.

 Ciel licked his cracked lips. “I  _would_  choose you,” Ciel said raggedly. “I would choose you in a hundred thousand lifetimes. I would find you and choose you again and  _again._ ” Ciel brushed his cheek harshly. “Because I have family, I have friends who would guard my people with every ounce of who they are.”

“You’re the crown-”

“I know!” Ciel all but yelled. “But I have sisters and only one of you. I only have one equal, one mate. You are my  _heart_ , Sam Galathynius and I am a selfish male. If the world was on fire and I had to choose, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would choose the thing that kept me alive.”

Sam blinked and more tears fell. Lyria was looking at Gavriel and Gavriel was looking at she. But he, he had eyes only for the Crochan Prince. “The fae,” Sam said weakly, his resolve beginning to crumble. “If they knew-”

Ciel rose his chin, imperial, arrogant, proud. “Let them come. Let them make the mistake. We can do anything, Sam. We are the strongest in the  _world_  and could do anything if we dared. So let them come. We’re stronger together than we are apart.”

  Sam swallowed thickly as he stared at Ciel. For the last two years they had been playing this game. His eyes went to the bite mark  _still_ at the witch’s neck and he could almost taste his blood and his mouth went dry.

  Before Sam knew what he was doing, he had his hands clasping Ciel’s face and their lips crushing. He poured everything into that kiss. Every ember, every broken piece of him. And he heard it. Deep, deep within his soul as he slowly parted from the witch. The snap.

Ciel’s eyes were wide and bright and Sam growled, “You’re  _mine_.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lyria,” Sam chided hoarsely. She didn’t miss the tinge of disapproval in her twin’s voice or the wickedly pleasant hum from Ciel. “Let him go. Please.”
> 
> Lyria ignored her brother’s protests and patted the man’s cheek. She relinquished the man’s shirt and he nearly fell back behind the bar as he scrambled for composure. “Would- would you like a room?”
> 
> “Much better,” she purred.
> 
> “Two rooms,” Gavriel said roughly. Lyria looked over her shoulder at her mate, who was looking at her, his gaze carefully guarded as he said, “Next to each other and two beds in one and a large one in the other. Now.”
> 
> “But-”
> 
> Lyria turned back around and gave the man a sweet smile, making sure to show her elongated canines. “You heard the male,” Lyria said, splaying her fingers across the smooth wood. “Now.”

Three days later, Aelin took the correspondence letter from a messenger and swaggered back up to her throne. She inhaled and exhaled slowly in attempt to gather her bearings and not vomit all over the antler throne as she settled into her seat.

Gods she had forgotten about how  _horrible_ morning sickness was. It was nearly seven in the evening. The debilitating horror should be renamed to something more appropriate that encompassed the overwhelming torture of wanting to puke up her guts every second of every day.

She shook her head as she sprawled out and opened the letter. She smiled at Dorian’s elegant handwriting and then jot up as she continued reading:

  _Aelin-_

_I’d like to request an informal visit. Manon and I would like to come see our son. I know he and the twins are off being heroes, but we need to see him as soon as possible. We have welcomed a new member into the royal family. It would seem Ciel had been a little busy when he returned from Terressen the last time._

_A witchling with Ciel’s eyes has appeared on the castle steps and Manon is certain she_ is  _his. I don’t know when Ciel will return to Adalarn and he needs to know. He hadn’t told us, and I have a feeling this time around, things will be much different for both our sons._

_Much thanks,_

_Dorian_

_P.S._

_Rajni finished the books you lent her. She requests to come with us, so she can scour your library for new books. Apparently, our library doesn’t live up to her imperial standards. I have no idea who she gets this from_.

 Aelin stared at the paper and the flipped it over, again and again before tipping her head back and bursting out laughing. A few members of the court looked her way and she just laughed and laughed.

She wasn’t sure which was funnier, Ciel with a child or Dorian and Rajni. But she soon sobered up, thinking about how she had her own first children merely a few years after Ciel. Her hand went to her stomach as she thought about the newest child that would soon be a part of her family.

A  _boy_.

With Shadowfire.            

And the threat of another world.

The world threatened to spin again as someone burst through the doors. Aelin was instantly on her feet with fire dancing at her fingertips. Lorcan came forward with his granite hewn eyes alert. “My sources have told me there was a surge of fire near Endovier two days ago. Hundreds of miles are ash.”

Aelin’s heart stopped clean in her chest and fire rose in her veins.  _Sam._ “They aren’t supposed to be there,” she whispered, running her hands through her hair. “They’re supposed to be up north.  _Not_ at Endovier.” Not in the place she still saw in her nightmares. Aelin’s head snapped up. “Gavriel. Is he the one who reported?’

_Please say yes, please say yes. Tell me Gavriel-_

Lorcan shook his head once. “He’s not there. There’s traces of Lyria and Ciel in his rooms. But beyond that, Gavriel hasn’t been seen in two weeks. The witches say he didn’t show up for the collapsing.”

The world stopped and Aelin curled her fingers into fists. It took all her strength to not reduce everything- the castle, the people, just _everything_ \- to ash. She barely registered the broad hand to her back. Aelin leaned back against Rowan and looked up at his alert pine eyes. “Find them.”              

Confliction warred on Rowan’s face and then it smoothed out into severe ferocity. “I will. I swear it. I love you,” He whispered against her brow and turned to Lorcan. “You and Fenrys know what to do. Keep Aelin and Terressen safe while I’m gone.”

Lorcan nodded once and Aelin buried her face in Rowan’s chest. “I love you. Bring my babies home.” Rowan pressed a kiss to her brow and shifted and flew through the open windows. Aelin cleared her throat and said, “Someone bring me a courier. And Asterin Blackbeak.”

* * *

Lyria stalked into the inn with the three males behind her. Gavriel and Ciel held most of Sam’s weight between them. L,yria stalked through the establishment and up to the counters and said, “I want two rooms.”

 The man’s dark eyes looked her and the boys over, thoroughly unimpressed as he looked at their ears and teeth. “We have no vacancies, girl.” Lies. He was saying that because they were  _fae_.

 Lyria gave him a cold, sharp smile and said, “I’m commandeering this establishment for the next undetermined amount of days. You will be paid handsomely for your troubles and losses but until I say so, we are your only clients. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with the Crown Princess of Terressen.” The man’s weathered face paled as Lyria fisted the man’s shirt and yanked him forward across the bar to an inch in front of her face. “ _Me._ ”

“ _Lyria_ ,” Sam chided hoarsely. She didn’t miss the tinge of disapproval in her twin’s voice or the wickedly pleasant hum from Ciel. “Let him go. Please.”

Lyria ignored her brother’s protests and patted the man’s cheek. She relinquished the man’s shirt and he nearly fell back behind the bar as he scrambled for composure. “Would- would you like a room?”

“Much better,” she purred.

“Two rooms,” Gavriel said roughly. Lyria looked over her shoulder at her mate, who was looking at her, his gaze carefully guarded as he said, “Next to each other and two beds in one and a large one in the other. Now.”

“But-”

Lyria turned back around and gave the man a sweet smile, making sure to show her elongated canines. “You heard the male,” Lyria said, splaying her fingers across the smooth wood. “ _Now._ ”

She chose to ignore the words muttered under his breath as he yanked two sets of keys from the case behind her. He waved a hand to follow.

Behind her, the boys grunted as they followed after her and the human. They went down the hallway. The wood floors shone, and the wallpaper was pristine, if a little ugly. But she paid that no mind as the man stopped abruptly in front of two suites. “Here. Twin beds and the…” his voice trailed off as he looked between the three males behind her with a frown, “the marital suite. I’m sure the bed is big enough for two brutes.”

Lyria’s fingers curled into fists and frost coated her veins. “Watch your tongue,” she clipped out and held out a hand for the keys. “Before one of those ‘brutes’ cuts it out.”

Ciel gave the man a savage grin- iron teeth and all- and said gleefully, “I’ll do it.” The man’s face paled to the color of parchment and Ciel gave him a low laugh. “Pathetic.” Sam frowned disapprovingly at him and color rose up on Ciel’s cheek and he muttered, “I wasn’t  _really_  going to do it.”

The man dropped the keys in her hand and nearly  _ran_ down the hallway. Lyria rolled her eyes and opened the door to the marital suite for Sam and Ciel. The room had plush light carpeting and a large four-poster bed in the center of the room. Vases of flowers were on the tables and dressers. It was a bit much for her tastes. It was just so  _tacky_.

Lyria stalked through the space, itching her nose at the smell of those ghastly flowers and went into the washroom to run water for Sam. The tub was large and porcelain, enough to easily fit two people.

 They got Sam inside the room and Lyria took that as her cue to avert her eyes and hum loudly while the boys peeled what little remains of Sam’s leathers and get him into the water. Sam hissed at the water against his wounds and said, “Lyria, get  _out_. Now.”

“Rude,” she scoffed. But she curled her fingers in Gavriel’s leathers and dragged him out of the room. Ciel shut the door the second they were out of reach. She let go of him and looked up at him, running her fingers through her messy hair, which at this point was  _disgusting._ ‘Thank you for your help, Gavriel.”

Those lion eyes looked her over intently as Gavriel dipped his head in a small bow. “Of course, Your Highness. It’s an honor to serve the crown.”

Lyria scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m standing in front of you in days old leathers with hair that hasn’t been washed in gods knows how long. Let’s stow the formal crap and try that again.”

Gavriel’s eyes glittered as a smile tilted up on those lips as he shook his head, “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days, Princess.” But then he sobered up quickly and said, “I’m glad you came to me for help. I’d do anything for you. I hope you know that.”

Of course, he would. Of course, her  _mate_ would do anything for her. Lyria’s heart shuddered in her chest and she made herself look down at her shirt and grimace. “Well,” she said a bit too loudly. “I need new clothes.”

 “I can go with you,” Gavriel offered, a tentative smile on his lips. “I can get Ciel and Sam some clothing. Sam’s close to my build.”

“Actually,” Lyria lied. “I need you to stay with the boys. In case they need something. I don’t want to leave Sam-”

 “Absolutely not!” Ciel yelled from inside the bathroom. “Take the Cat with you. My  _mate_ will be just fine with me!” Lyria heard a splash and then, “Sam come  _on_ , I want alone time away from the ‘doomed ones’.

Confusion flickered on Gavriel’s face, but it instantly smoothed out into indifference. “If you don’t want company, Lyria, it’s fine. I can write correspondence to your parents. They’ve most likely heard by now about the fire and it won’t take them long to realize it was Sam.”

Shit.  _Shit_. That’s right. “We’re hundreds of miles from where were supposed to be. We’re supposed to be up by the wolf tribes. People have been going miss-”

Gavriel clasped her shoulders and looked down at her with quiet steel. “Don’t worry about it, Princess. I’ll send people to deal with the threat. You’re needed with your brother.” A small smile quirked up that didn’t quite meet those tawny eyes. “If I know Rowan, he’s on his way here.”

Lyria dropped her head forward and sighed, “Lovely.”

Gavriel laughed quietly and pulled her into a hug. Lyria pressed her forehead against his chest and nearly melted into him when he pressed his lips to the top of her hair. “It’ll all be fine. But you’re right, we need to get clean clothes.”

“We do,” Lyria sighed. Hell, she didn’t want to move from his arms, but they  _reeked_. “You can carry the bags.”

* * *

Ciel had shed his clothes and gotten into the tub with Sam. He took care of washing his mate, getting the dirt and mud and blood out of that golden hair and off that tanned skin. Hate and a cold rage filled his veins when he looked at Sam’s wrists.

The skin had rubbed itself raw. No, it wasn’t rubbed raw, it was burned raw. From iron manacles. Ciel gingerly took Sam’s hand and carefully patted the wounds clean. Winces feathered through Sam’s face and Ciel said, “We could get Yrene or Nadia to heal these for you. Maybe we could head to Adalarn, get them to look at your wounds. We’re only a few days from there.”

Sam shook his head and said, “No.”

“Sam,” Ciel started. His mate flicked his eyes up to his and Ciel said, “You don’t need to live with these, Princeling. They’d be happy to-”

_“No_ ,” Sam said harshly, yanking his hand back from Ciel’s touch. “I want my scars. They’re how I know I survived.”

Ciel’s heart broke in his chest and he didn’t know how to argue with that. Especially with the hard, stubborn set to Sam’s jaw and the light in those gold-rimmed turquoise eyes. Ciel cradled Sam’s face and pressed a kiss to Sam’s brow. “Okay, Sam,” he murmured against his skin. “Okay.”

A small smile tilted up on Sam’s lips and he whispered, “Will you help me with my back?”

Ciel’s throat tightened. He didn’t trust himself to utter a word without it breaking, so he nodded and motioned for Sam to turn around. The male hissed as he did so and Ciel felt tears slip down his face at the ruined flesh marring Sam’s back.

Scars over scars. Criss-crossed across Sam’s tanned skin, some wide and short and others long and stretching across the entirety of Sam’s skin. Gods.  _Gods._  Once Aelin saw these…

Ciel carefully brought up a lathered rag and lightly patted the wounds. Heat pulsed around them and Ciel dropped it with his magic as he pressed a kiss to Sam’s shoulder, “Breathe, Sam. Just breathe.”

Sam’s long fingers braced the sides of the tub in an ironclad grip, his back spasming and arms straining as he dipped his head and nearly whimpered.

“Just- just hurry up,” He said hoarsely. “Please.”

* * *

Gavriel followed Lyria throughout the town, carrying bag after bag as the princess bought everyone clothing. How she knew his measurements, he tried to not think about that particular detail. But he couldn’t help being amused, watching the demifae stalk into stores, paying off the cashiers so they wouldn’t run them out.

Three hours of shopping and his weight in gold later, Gavriel carried the bags back to the inn. Lyria plucked her clothes from a bag and stalked to the bathroom where she slammed the door and yelled, “Give Ciel and Sam theirs, please!”

Gavriel huffed and grabbed their bags and went to knock on their door. He heard the bedspring and then the door opened to see Ciel standing in a towel, his dyed hair hanging limply around his shoulders as he looked Gavriel over. “’Bout time, Cat. What were you doing? Cleaning your fur?”

His eyes went past Ciel to see Sam lain out on the bed, flat on his stomach and sheets covering the lower half of him. His eyes locked on Sam’s back and he swallowed the tight building of a snarl in his throat.

Gavriel forced his eyes back to Ciel. “Lyria wanted to make sure she got the right sizes.”

“I’m sure,” Ciel smirked, dragging his eyes over Gavriel. “Give the Ice Princess my thanks.”

Gavriel glowered at him and before he could answer, Ciel plucked the bags from him and shut the door in his face. He heard the bed sprang, and Sam murmur, “Why are you such an asshole?”

“I’m a prince, Sam,” Ciel said lightly. “It’s one of the perks.”

Sam laughed quietly.

Gavriel shook his head and went back to his and Lyria’s room. He went to the desk and rummaged for parchment. He pulled out the stack of paper and wrote out the events of the last few weeks the best he could, trying his best to block out Lyria Galathynius showering.

He looked over the letter carefully, making sure he got every piece of information he could before sealing the letters and going to find a courier.

* * *

Asterin took the letter and pushed her wyvern to its breaking point, flying straight for Adalarn. She flew all night and all morning until she got to the castle. Nadia was at attention instantly, her golden-brown eyes looking over the wyvern and her carefully as she came up to them. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to see my cousin.” Asterin said, stalking through the courtyard.

The young Crochan kept in step with her easily. The only sounds were their boots hitting the stone floor as they stalked through the castle. Nadia led the way up to Ciel’s rooms, where both Dorian and Manon waited.

“You’re Majesties,” Nadia announced. “Asterin Blackbeak is here to see you.”

 Manon looked up from the couch. Asterin’s heart shuddered at the delicate lines of age and pushed that thought away as her eyes locked on with the bundle in Manon’s arms. She walked up slowly and peered down at the child and whispered, “It’s true.”

A mere nineteen-year-old witch can have a healthy witchling. Something bitter stirred in Asterin’s heart as she knelt before her queen and the child in her arms. “She’s beautiful,” she murmured, brushing a thumb over the child’s golden curls.

“Yes,” Manon agreed quietly. “Why are you here? Something happen with Ciel?”

  Dorian’s lifted his eyes from the book in his hands and he said, “What is it?”

Asterin straightened and said, “Lorcan Salvaterre’s men reported a surge of fire not four days ride from here. It has all the signs of belonging to a fire wielder. Sam. There’s no other with the magnitude of flames, other than Aelin herself.”

  Dorian and Manon exchanged glances and Manon handed Dorian the witchling and got up on her feet and stalked out of the room. Dorian took the child to a crib and gently laid her inside and turned to Nadia and said, “I want guards stationed outside.”

Nadia bowed her head and he followed his wife.

Asterin fell instep easily with the sapphire eyed king and she fed him everything Lorcan and Aelin had given her. The collapsing of the mines, Gavriel missing. The fire that destroyed hundreds of acres. The  _bodies_  that were burned to nothing.

Dorian’s face grew paler and colder with each word. Ice coated his fingertips and the air pulsed with an invisible chill. The guards exchanged worried glances and straightened as they past Abraxi’s room. Cenric’s hand went to the blade at his side as he flicked his gaze between them.

He then disappeared inside the bedroom.

* * *

Abraxi looked up from her dog to see Cenric looking at her. Her smile disappeared at the tight look on his tanned face. Carefully getting up from the bed, Abraxi smoothed down her skirts and went up to him and braced his forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“Asterin Blackbeak is here,” He said quietly, ghosting his hand over hers. “There was a fire. She said it was Sam.”

 Abraxi stiffened. Sam. If Sam was using his magic, if there was a  _fire_ , something was very, very wrong. Years of hearing Ciel bitching about not training with Sam rang in her ears and she knew if Sam was in trouble… so was her brother.

Abraxi picked up her skirts and ran out of the room and down the long hallway. She heard Cenric right behind her and she made her way to the council room where she found her parents and Asterin huddled over a map. “What’s going on.”

They looked at her and told her what they knew. Abraxi felt herself pale more and more and her legs nearly gave out beneath her, only for Cenric to wrap an arm around her waist and murmur against her hair, “It’s okay. It’s going to be fine.”

Abraxi pressed her face into his shoulder for a moment, inhaling his scent as she gathered her bearings. Cenric squeezed her once and she stepped out of his arm and went up to her parents and Asterin. “I’m going with you.”

“Abraxi,” her father started.

She gave him a sharp look. “Ciel is my brother and Sam is my friend. I know you’re going to head out to see what happened. I’m coming with you. And  _Cenric_ is coming with  _me_.”

“Cenric is a palace guard,” Her mother said calmly. “He has no reason or proper training to be out in those woods.”

“And Chaol Westfall was Captain of the Guard when he helped the rebels in the Dark War, was he not? And  _Cenric_ was trained by him. And the witches. Every day he trains, and I would have no one else at my back.”

“Abraxi,” Cenric murmured sharply.

She ignored his warning look and said with a finality that would end all arguments, “He’s coming with us.”

And with that, Abraxi turned on her heel and stalked out of the council room and back down to her chambers with her chin raised high. It was only when she got into her room did she realize that she has gone to the council room barefoot.

Abraxi curled up on her bed with her puppy and buried her face in Cupcake’s golden fur. Her blood thrummed in her veins and it was an effort to not start crying at the thought of something happening to her brother.

  A knock sounded at the door and Abraxi sniffed and snapped, “ _What_.”

  There was a long pause before the door cracked open to reveal Cenric. The nineteen-year-old guard ran a broad hand through his short hair as he shut the door behind himself and came up and sat on the edge of her bed. “Abraxi-”

 “Do  _not_ try to talk me out of going,” She warned.

Cenric smiled at her, though it did not reach his coppery brown eyes. “I would never. Last thing I need is to be on your bad side. Then I wouldn’t get to kiss you.”

Abraxi snorted and dropped her head as a half-sob half-laugh bubbled out of her. She pressed her face into her hands and sniffled. “You’re horrible.”

The bed shifted and Abraxi looked to see Cenric laying out across the duvet with his hands folded behind his head. He turned to look at up at her and asked carefully, “Why do you want me to come? Nadia would be a  _much_ better choice. She has been a guard a lot longer than I  _and_ she’s a Crochan witch.” His face grew solemn. “She can protect you better than I can.”

 Abraxi spread her legs out and settled her feet on his chest and said, “Maybe I don’t want to be the only human among them other than my father.”

  Cenric arched a brow and gave her a skeptical look and said, “Or maybe you just want me near so none of the court ladies can get their claws in me.”

  Abraxi scoffed. “As if. You are allowed to be with any girl you want, Cenric.” She ignored the pang in her chest and drew her knees up to her chest. “It’s not like I can give you what you want.”

Cenric sat up and leaned close to her and ran a lock of hair behind her ear, “And what is it you think I want?”

Abraxi arched a brow and gave him a  _look_. “What every other boy, noble born or otherwise want.”

 “Maybe I do want  _that_ ,” He allowed her. Abraxi rolled her eyes. “But I’m not interested in just anyone.” She blinked, and his eyes grew uncharacteristically bright. “What’s the point of having sex with just anyone?”

Abraxi shook her head and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “Spoken like someone who don’t have to protect their ‘virtue’.” Something flickered across his handsome face and Abraxi slipped off the bed and went to her closet.

It wasn’t going to be her. She couldn’t be what Cenric wanted.  Her heart- and virtue- would one day go to a prince. It should excite her, being able to belong somewhere other than with a family that she would watch stay young forever while she grew old and feeble. To see somewhere  _new._

So why did her chest feel so damned hollow?

  Fingers hooked around her waist and Cenric pulled her from her spiraling and into his arms. Abraxi looped her own arms around his neck while he rested his hands on her hips and pressed her against the wall. “Sure I can’t talk you into taking my sister?”

Abraxi got up to her toes and kissed him hard on the lips. A low groan sat in the bottom of his throat as she ran her fingers through his cropped hair. “I can’t do this with Nadia,” she murmured against his lips.

“I think you could,” He grinned, a bit crookedly. “She prefers girls anyhow.”

Abraxi scoffed and smacked his chest. “Shush. Either kiss me or help me-”

Cenric curled a finger beneath her chin and lifted her lips up to meet his. A way to shut her up. Abraxi opened to Cenric’s tongue demanding access to her mouth. His body was a solid wall against hers as his lips lowered to her neck.

“Admit it,” he said lazily against her skin. Gooseflesh rose up on her arms as he whispered, “You want me to come so no girl can take what’s yours. You never were good at sharing, Sorcha Abraxi. Not even with your sister.”

 Abraxi’s breath turned shallow as his lips ghosted her skin.  _Damn him_. “No,” she said curtly, tugging at his hair a bit too harshly. “I want you to go because you’re my  _friend_  and I trust you. But by all means, if you don’t want to go, then don’t.”

Cenric blinked but then he cupped her face “Hey now,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her lip. “I never said I didn’t want to go. I was just poking fun at you. Of course I’ll go. I’ll always be at your side. I swear it.”                

  Abraxi flicked her eyes up to his and she felt her heart shudder in her chest at the complete sincerity in the young lord’s gaze. Abraxi curled her fingers around Cenric’s neck and brought his lips back down to hers.

He could swear it all he liked. But it wasn’t true.

* * *

Sam jolted awake and cried out as his back spasmed. He panted heavily as his head snapped around the room. He didn’t recognize the absurdly ridiculous wallpaper or the decorations. His blood roared in his ears as he tried sitting up.

Where was he. Where was he.  _Where_   _was-_

A pair of slender hands clasped Sam’s face. “Sam,” the male breathed. “Sam, it’s okay. You’re safe, remember? You’re safe. With me.”

It took him a moment for him to look past the fear in his blood and remember who this mismatched eyed male in front of him was. Sam’s fingers curled around the male’s wrist and he breathed, “Ciel.”

A smile spread on Ciel’s lips that didn’t reach his eyes as he pressed his lips to Sam’s brow. “Yes,” he murmured against his skin, “Yes, it’s me.”

Sam buried his face in Ciel’s neck and inhaled the frost and jasmine scent of his mate.  _His_  mate. He had a  _mate_. And it was Ciel. Sam nipped at the male’s throat and whispered, “They wanted you. They wanted me to hand you over.”

“Fuck them,” Ciel snarled. Sam lifted his head to look at Ciel’s cold expression. “They can rot. They all signed a death warrant the minute they thought they could lay a claw on you. They can _not_ ,” Ciel said, clasping Sam’s chin. “You’re  _mine_ and I’ll be damned if they try to take me away from you.”

Warmth spread in Sam’s veins and he pushed Ciel down onto the bed and kissed him. Ciel made a small surprised sound in his throat when Sam rested a hand on Ciel’s chest and pressed a knee between the male’s thighs.

Sex was off the table. At least- at least for now. Sam’s back spasmed and he barely stopped himself from collapsing on top of Ciel. He tore his lips from the male and panted through the tremors, putting all his focus on  _not_ burning the rutting place to the ground.

Chilled fingers brushed his cheek and Sam’s body loosened. The pain began to subside, and he pressed his forehead against Ciel’s shoulder and closed his eyes, stopping the tears of pain from slipping onto his cheeks.

  “Lay down,” Ciel ordered quietly. “Stop trying to move when you need to give yourself time to heal.”

Sam opened his eyes and glared down at the male. The hard, stubborn set to Ciel’s jaw left little room for Sam to argue and he did as told. Pain laced every movement he made as he laid back down in the sheets.

Tears nearly slipped down his cheeks as he forced air into his lungs and his head onto the pillow. Ciel laid next to him, curling a lock of hair behind Sam’s ear. There was a certain… softness to Ciel’s face as he looked at him.

You are everything, Sam,” Ciel whispered, clasping Sam’s cheek. “You are everything to me. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you. So let yourself heal, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

Sam could only blink at the male. He wanted to move. He hated sitting still, unless he had a book in his hands. But this pain that spread through his entire body in an angry ache, it left little room for him to be able to do what he wanted.

Which incidentally was Ciel.

* * *

Rowan flew as hard as he could, for the land that was nothing but charred trees and scorched earth. He could only stare at the terrain burned and destroyed, all from a fire wielder. A fire wielder with his own blood. Sam.

He shifted back into his fae form and ran through mile after mile, looking for any trace of his children. He could scent them, he could scent the violence that had been enacted.

The ground crunched beneath his feet as he followed the faint, distinct vanilla and embers scent of his son up through the mountain pass. The air was thin, freezing, and the higher he got and the dread in his stomach pooled.

Rowan drew a blade as he looked at the mouth of the cave. The thick tang of blood filled his nose and he swallowed the building snarl in his throat and stalked into the cave. His heart dropped at the chains and pool of blood in the center of the space.

 “Gods,” he whispered, tears pricking behind his eyes.

Ice rose in his veins and it was an effort to not unleash his magic and further destroy everything around him. Rowan whirled around and stalked out of the mouth of the cave and flew.

* * *

Lyria twisted her hair into a tight,  _tight_ braid before loosening her limbs. She could hear her brother and Ciel murmuring quietly in the next room and could hear Gavriel sharpening weapons outside the bedroom. Lyria quietly opened a window and shifted to fly out of it.

She shifted back into her fae form when she was out of fae hearing distance. Last thing she needed was Sam to know where she was headed. Lyria landed with a soft patter on the dirt road. She straightened and pulled her hood over her features and stalked into the night.

It didn’t take her long to find where she was looking for. She had smelled the blood from blocks away. Lyria swaggered up to the dimly lit warehouse, only to be stopped by the burly guard. Lyria scented him.  _Human_.

  “Let me in,” she said in a low voice.

  “Little girls shouldn’t be out past dark,” the man said. “Lest you’re asking for trouble.”

Lyria smiled beneath her hood and purred, “I’ll give you one chance. Let me in before I force my way in.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are,” he snapped, looking her over, far too closely to be merely sizing her up.

She could smell the rising bloodlust in the man and it would just take the right words. Just the right words to get him to make a mistake. Lyria folded her arms over her chest and drawled, “Better than you.”

The man went to grab her and in a few maneuvers, Lyria had the man’s arm twisted behind him and the prick dropped down to his knees. Lyria flipped her hood off and the male paled in the moonlight at her pointed ears and elongated canines. “ _Fae._ ”

 Lyria knelt down in front of him and said, “You should have just let me in. Then you wouldn’t have made a fool of yourself.” The man snarled at her and she patted his cheek. “You don’t scare me, honey. I’ve had more training than some thug they put on  _guard duty_.”

Before the man could say a single word, Lyria walked around him and stalked into the warehouse. Her blood thrummed at the large crowd and it was demanding more. More excitement. More thrill.

Lyria pushed past a few bystanders and grinned down at the two fighters in the pit. One was a witch, the other utterly human. It wasn’t a fair fight, at all. Especially with the human black and blue and panting. She had to give him props for still standing.

Though that didn’t last when the witch’s foot connected with the man’s ribs. She heard the break from where she was and soon enough, the man was a crumpled mess in the sand. The witch hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Who’s next,” The witch shouted, scanning her dark eyes across the crowd.

The bystanders where uncharacteristically quiet and Lyria settled onto the ground and flung her legs over the side of the pit. “Don’t you think you have a bit of an unfair advantage?” Lyria whispered, knowing the witch could hear her. “With not being human and all?”

The witch snapped her dark eyes to Lyria and grinned- iron teeth and all- and the crowd gasped. Some scuttled backwards but the witch only had eyes for her. “Lyria Galathynius,” she said in a normal voice. “You’re a long way from home.”

Lyria hopped down into the pit and landed on her haunches. She could smell her brother on the witch. It was faint, but it was there. Her blood roared in her veins. “Yes, well,” Lyria started, swaggering up to the witch. “Your friends think its okay to butcher my brother. A  _prince_.” She held a hand to her chest and said, “All to get to my  _best_ friend.  _Your_ prince.”

She couldn’t get those scars out of her head. She couldn’t get the  _smell_ of that burning flesh out of her nose. And Sam’s face- his betrayed look when she and Ciel wasn’t there. It was her fault. It was  _her_ fault that her brother was taken and hurt.

 Ice crept up on her curling fingers and Lyria heard the crowd of people start for the exits. At least the bottom feeders had a strong sense of self-preservation. Lyria blocked out their shouting and scuffling as the witch rose her chin. “That  _male_ is not my prince. Just as Manon  _Crochan_ is not my queen.”

Gods, could these people not get new material? ‘Not my prince’. ‘Not my queen’. It was getting tedious and old and just  _boring_.

“See here’s the thing,” Lyria said sharply. “You touched what belongs to me. You threaten my things, you threaten me. I do not take kindly to  _anyone_ hurting my brother. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t rip the heart from your chest, witch.”

The witch’s answer was the slow growing of her claws and a launch at her. She had expected that. Lyria whirled out of the way and grabbed the witch by the back of her hair and threw her down onto the ground.

The witch landed in the sand with a loud thud, sand flying everywhere. As soon as the witch began to get up, Lyria coated ice to the female’s legs and arms and melded her into the sand below. Lyria lowered herself to her haunches as the witch began to struggle, in vain attempt at freeing herself.

Lyria grew her own claws and sliced down the female’s cheek. Blue blood instantly welled, and the witch screamed.  The pain in those dark eyes smoothed out the edge of rage in her heart, in seeing this female hurt for hurting her brother.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice scolded.

Lyria looked up and over her shoulder to see Gavriel at the top of the pit and scowling down at her with his arms folded over his chest. Lyria merely turned back around and looked down at the witch and said, “I figured you’d show up.”

Gavriel dropped into the pit and stalked over to her and the witch. “Of course, I did. I heard you sneak out.” Lyria rolled her eyes and Gavriel knelt next to her and looked down at the witch. His eyes darkened as he scented the female. “She was with Sam.”

“Mhm,” Lyria hummed. The witch’s face contorted in pain ad Lyria cast a long look over the witch’s body encased in ice and said, “Frost bite is a  _bitch_ , is it not? I’ll melt it if you give me names.”

The witch whimpered and Lyria grew her ice, watching it creep up the witch’s hips. Lyria looked at her unneat nails and sighed when the witch shook her head and panted, “No.”

“You sure?” Lyria asked lightly. She cocked her head and pressed her heel to the witch’s frozen wrist. “I know how much you witches love your pretty nails. All that  _iron_ ,” she grimaced. “You know how much we fae  _hate it_.”

Tears streamed down the witch’s cheeks as Lyria put weight on her heel. She could hear the wrist beginning to fracture. “Just a  _bit more-_ ”

“Okay!” The witch screamed. “ _Okay.”_

Lyria removed her heel and knelt next to her. “Now was that so hard?” Lyria clicked her tongue. “You had to have me resort to violence. I’m sure the Cat’s not too fond of watching his princess getting her hands dirty.”

Gavriel’s gaze bore between her shoulder blades. “That I am not,” he said gruffly.

“I’ll tell you,” the witch said hoarsely.

* * *

Nadia stalked through the long hallway of the castle until she found her brother station outside Abraxi’s chamber. Her eyes narrowed at the lazy grin plastered on his face. But the second his eyes locked on hers, that smile disappeared, and he straightened.

The guard next to him- Aalis- ghosted a smirk on her lips as they locked eyes. The last night crept up in her minds and Nadia pushed that thought away and said to Aalis, “You keep guard.” She flicked her eyes to her bother and fisted his shirt and said, “ _You_ are coming with me.”

Before Cenric could protest, she yanked him to the nearest empty room and threw him inside and locked the door behind them. Her brother bit at his lip and she pushed him back against the wall and pointed at him. “Are you sleeping with her?”

Cenric arched a brow. “With who? You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

‘Abraxi,” she bit out. “How long have you two been sneaking around. Are you  _mad_? She’s a rutting princess! And you are a  _guard_.”

“Technically I’m a lord,” he pointed out.

She reigned in her rising shriek and smacked him over the head. “Please tell me you’re not that  _stupid_. Please,  _please_ tell me you-”

“Nadia!” Cenric yelled, clasping her face. “I have not had sex with her. I haven’t even seen her  _naked_ for Gods’ sakes. All were doing, is kissing.”

She studied his face, at the complete sincerity and honestly in those coppery brown eyes. “You’re being stationed somewhere else,” Nadia said, straightening her jacket. “You compromised your position when you decided to start ‘kissing’ Abraxi.”

“ _What_? It’s not like  _you’re_ not compromised. You have the girl you’re screwing stationed right next to me!”

Nadia bristled and she took a step towards her brother. He has the right idea to pale as she growled, “Aalis has not abandoned her post again and again to go screw someone. I am your Captain and you’re going to listen to me or you can hand in your uniform and explain to our father why you lost your job.”

  Cenric dropped his head and sighed. “We’re am I stationed,  _Captain_?”

  “South end of the castle,” she relented, trying to keep the edge from her voice. “Effective immediately.”

* * *

Gavriel spent the next hour with Lyria, getting every shred of information out of the witch before delivering a clean death. He had taken care of burying the witch’s body and made sure to keep the princess in sight.

Lyria Galathynius does  _not_ make keeping a low profile easy.

After cleaning up-  _again_ -, Gavriel hunted down Lyria, who was sitting on the roof of the inn, staring out at the night below. Why the princess was so high up off the ground when she feared heights, was beyond him.

  But when he peered at that lovely face and damp silver hair and those exhausted pine eyes that stared up at the night sky, his heart squeezed, and he nearly forgot why it was he followed her up here to begin with.

Nearly.

Gavriel stalked up to the Crown Princess of Terressen, the female he was charged with protecting. The female who made it a sport to sneak out under his nose, as often as she could, more often than not to do illegal fighting that could get herself very  _dead_  if she weren’t careful.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He growled. “You couldn’t have asked me to come with you? It is my  _job_ to keep you and your brother  _safe._  And I can’t do that when you’re deciding to sneak out of the damned bathroom  _window_ to go witch hunting.”

Lyria Galathynius shifted her eyes from the night sky to him, the calm in her gaze shattering as she tightened her lips and stood, stalking up to him. She lifted those eyes to his, unflinching and hard. “Last I checked Kitty-Cat, I am my own person and I do  _not_ need a god-damned babysitter.”

  His mouth went dry at her rain and lily scent filling his nose. She was far too close.

“You may be your own person, Princess, but you are foremost the  _crown_ princess. You have a duty to your people.”

“I have a duty to my  _brother_ ,” she seethed, those eyes flashing. “I have a duty to honor and defend my blood, my  _twin_ and  _Carranam_. That witch was the one to whip him. I  _felt it_. Every slash, every new scar.”

“You could have told me,” he snapped. “You could have had me gone  _with_ you. You-”

She took a step forward and pressed a finger to his chest. “Just because you’re-”

Her mouth snapped shut and her face blanked over. Lyria sighed through her nose and as she went to walk away, he hooked his fingers in her arms and whirled her around to face him. “Because I’m  _what_ ,” he said hoarsely.

She visibly swallowed, and he could almost hear the heart in her chest beating a bit faster, could smell the change in her scent. Lyria let out a shaky breath and before he knew better, before he could stop himself, Gavriel cupped her face and kissed her deeply.

No hesitation flickered in her scent as she kissed him back, deeply and wholly. He brushed a thumb over her cheek and kissed her deeper as a soul deep snap sounded in his ears, tearing him from her lips and knocking him back a step. And then another.

“Oh Gods,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are loved XO


	12. CHapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You knew.”
> 
> Lyria’s long fingers curled into a ball and she sighed through her nose. “I did.”
> 
> His feet were moving before he could stop them. Lyria looked up at him and he dipped his head and kissed her. Her arms looped around his neck and her scent filled his nose. It was charged, electric and Gavriel hooked an arm around her back and pulled her closer.
> 
> Gavriel hooked an arm around her back and pulled her closer as that word, that most important word filled his head, his heart, his body as he kissed her deeply. She was his mate, his mate.
> 
> He didn’t hear the door and he didn’t feel the ice creep through the room. He didn’t smell him. Air caught in his lungs as he was yanked backwards and thrown into the wall. Plaster cracked behind him from the sheer force and he froze completely as Rowan Whitethorn stalked up to him and curled his fingers around his throat and pinned him back.
> 
> “Father!”

Gavriel had - for lack of better terms- ran away the second the bond snapped. The look on Lyria’s face, tear streaked and unsurprised and the complete shock he had felt- He had been a coward. He had been a coward and  _ran_.

Now he sat at the edge of town in his animal form, high up in a tree, watching the moon. He had been in this spot for the last two hours, thinking over everything. Lyria. Rowan. Aedion. The things that made all of this so  _complicated_.

And he thought working with Aelin while serving Maeve was complicated.

Gavriel shook his head and stretched out on the tree branch before jumping down onto the wet grass below and shifting back into his fae form. He let out a slow breath and carded his fingers through his hair before beginning his walk back to the inn.

He past the manager at the desk, ignoring the man’s paling features as he made his way back down the hall. He could hear Sam’s labored breathing from where he was, could hear Ceil whispering to him.

But he drowned that out, he drowned out his prince and his mate for the sounds of his own mate and the shower that she was taking. His heart lurched in his chest as he knocked on the room door.

He waited for a heartbeat and then another and another before he heard the water shut off. Seconds later Lyria Galathynius answered the door opened the door in a towel, her silvery hair hanging limp and damp, her face carefully closed off.

Gavriel swallowed thickly and he said, “May I come in?”

Lyria looked up at him, those pine eyes- Rowan’s eyes- searching his face for a long moment before opening the door and letting him in.

Lyria turned around and went to grab clothes from one of the shopping bags when he said, “You knew.”

Lyria’s long fingers curled into a ball and she sighed through her nose. “I did.”

His feet were moving before he could stop them. Lyria looked up at him and he dipped his head and kissed her. Her arms looped around his neck and her scent filled his nose. It was charged, electric and Gavriel hooked an arm around her back and pulled her closer.

Gavriel hooked an arm around her back and pulled her closer as that word, that most important word filled his head, his heart, his body as he kissed her deeply. She was his mate, his  _mate_.

He didn’t hear the door and he didn’t feel the ice creep through the room. He didn’t smell him. Air caught in his lungs as he was yanked backwards and thrown into the wall. Plaster cracked behind him from the sheer force and he froze completely as Rowan Whitethorn stalked up to him and curled his fingers around his throat and pinned him back.

“ _Father_!”

Rowan bared his teeth, his face complete ice as he snarled, “What the  _hell_ do you think you’re doing with my daughter?”

Gavriel clawed at Rowan’s arm but the warrior’s nails merely dug into his neck, drawing blood down his throat steadily.

“Rowan,” he choked out.

“Father,” Lyria snarled. “Let him  _go_.”

Rowan ignored her and the temperature dropped severely, coating the windows in the room with a thick layer of ice. A near feral growl tore out of the king’s throat. “That’s not an answer.”

Gavriel heard the bedroom door slam open and the air pulsed with scorching heat. “What’s going  _on_.”

 _Sam_.

Rowan’s pure undivided attention was snapped on his. Ancient, near feral, pure power.

“It’s not what you think,” Gavriel gasped, trying in vain to uncurl the fingers from around his throat. “You know me.”

Lyria sunk iced claws in Rowan’s arm. He smelled more blood: she drew blood on her own father. For him. Gavriel caught a glance of the princess’s eyes: solid white, glowing. “I will not ask again. Release him.”

Rowan’s eyes slowly shifted to Lyria and he stared unflinchingly at her before looking back at him. Those pine eyes were blown out, his face frozen, lips pulled back into a snarl, and Gavriel knew Rowan was seconds away from tearing out his throat with his teeth.

He saw the struggle in the King Consort of Terressen’s eyes, his chest heaved and the silver stands of Rowan’s hair hung damp at his shoulders from the heat filling the room. He heard a growl building in Sam’s throat and Rowan slowly began uncurling his fingers from his throat.

Thank the gods for Sam and Rowan’s protective streak for his son.

Rowan took a sharp step back and Gavriel doubled over, coughing, as he drew air into his lungs. “On my honor,” he croaked. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like you had your tongue down my sister’s throat,” a voice growled.

All three of them drug their attention to see Sam bracing the wall, shirtless and panting. The Prince’s chest was slick with sweat and heaving. He heard another low rumble from the King Consort in front of him, this time directed at the wounds marring Sam Galathynius’s body.

Lyria was the first to move, the ice claws disappearing and her eyes returning to normal. “Sam, go back to your room,” she said gently, calmly, curling her fingers at her sides, to not touch her brother.

Sam’s face was unreadable, just as frozen as his father’s. “What’s. Going.  _On_.”

Ciel came in, wide-eyed. The Crochan prince was shirtless as well, his dyed hair hanging loose past his shoulders as he winced, looking over the chaos before him steadily. He turned his attention to Lyria Galathynius and grimaced. “Looks like your secret is out, Ice Princess.”

Rowan blinked slowly and he turned that ancient malice back to him. “ _Secret_?”

* * *

Rowan digested that word and his veins froze over. Secret. Secret. How long has Gavriel been… intimate with Lyria.

Lyria got between them before he could skewer the Lion with the blade at his side. She barely had the towel secure around her as she bared her teeth at him, her chest heaving as she said, “Get away from my mate.”

Mate.

 _Mate_.

Gavriel was his daughter’s mate.

A growl built in Rowan’s throat as he lifted his eyes from Lyria to the Lion of Doranelle. “Is this true?” he asked in a dead calm.

“I swear it,” Gavriel wheezed, wiping the blood from his tattooed throat. “I swear it on my honor. I just found out. I’ve done nothing about it.”

Rowan’s lips thinned and he clenched his teeth, trying his damnedest to not shatter every bone in the warrior’s body for touching his daughter. He forced himself to remember: this was his friend. This was one of his oldest friends. Someone who had shed blood with him, who had been there in the darkest of hells with him, who had grieved with him.

He forced his attention to his son. Sam’s long golden hair was a mess, his usually thoughtful face utterly exhausted as he wheezed. His eyes went to the thin cut on Sam’s cheek down to the scabbed, raw wrists. His heart dropped into a million shattered pieces.

“Sam,” he breathed.

Sam didn’t meet his eyes. Bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Ciel Havilliard’s face was frozen with fury as he looked at Sam, those mismatched eyes going to Sam’s back. Ciel’s fingers curled into tight fists, to stop himself from touching Sam.“You’re not okay,” Ciel said, quietly.

Sam frowned and swallowed thickly as he closed his eyes and turned around. “I’m going back to my room,” his son said, going to leave.

Rowan’s attention snapped to the scars going across his son’s back. Whipped raw. The wounds appeared to be healing well but-

Sam left before he could say anything and Rowan turned to Ciel. “What,” he clipped out, “ _happened_.”

“How about all of you get out so I can rutting we’ll get dressed,” his daughter snapped, sharply.

Rowan slowly blinked and then he, Ciel and the Lion all got out of the room. Lyria sent a burst of wind to slam the door behind him. The door locked.

Rowan turned to Ciel and ordered, “Tell me.”

“Sam was captured. Lyria and I were in another part of the forest when Sam was jumped by a group of Ironteeth. They used wyrdmarks to cancel out his magic. He managed to kill a few before he was overtaken.”

Rowan felt the warmth in the air around him leech out, leaving the chilling numb that he felt in his heart. “Why weren’t you with him,” he growled. “How many times do you need to leave my son alone before you get it through that thick head that he’s vulnerable.”

Ciel’s gaze grew dark and his lips thinned. The young prince met Rowan’s gaze glare for glare and there was nothing young or kind in those harsh features. The smirk was long gone, leaving nothing but a ruthless witch. “I will regret my choices until the day I die, Your Majesty,” Ciel bit out, “but don’t think for a second Sam is vulnerable.”

The pile of blood and chains that were seared into his mind begged to differ. It wasn’t that Sam was different, it was that Sam and Lyria and Ciel were a unit and a unit stuck together. No matter what. And when he said as much, the tension in Ciel’s shoulders unwound. “If you plan on punishing me,” Ciel said, calmly, arrogantly, tiredly, “I suggest getting on with it. Preferably while Sam was still weak. Unless you want your son to take your head.”

Ciel turned around before Rowan could say another word and stalked into the room Sam had disappeared into. Ciel sent a burst of wind to slam the door shut and Rowan sighed through his nose, looking at Gavriel, whose throat was still a dark shade of red. Still bleeding.

He gripped his instincts in an ironclad grip and shoved them down, before he finished the job of killing the Lion of Doranelle; something his daughter wouldn’t be all too pleased with. He forced his blood to stop frenzying and let out a slow, shaky breath. “Bond?”

Gavriel dipped his head into a nod. “According to the witch, the bond snapped in place on the last scouting mission. Ciel’s known for about ten months or so, but he’s done nothing about it other than hide it from Sam.”

Rowan blinked back his surprise. The witch, one of the most arrogant, entitled people he’s had both the pleasure and displeasure of knowing, he didn’t tell Sam? Gods, Sam could not have been all too happy the witch lied to him.

“Interesting,” was all he said.

* * *

Abraxi tied her hair back into a braid and had pulled on flying leathers when a knock sounded at the door. “Just a minute, Cenric.”

“It’s not Cenric, my lady.”

Abraxi looked over her shoulder to see Nadia coming into the room, her uniform in perfect order, her curly hair tied back into a tight braid and the owl pommel of her sword gleaming in the light as she squared her shoulders and folded her hands behind her back.

Goodness, did Nadia always have to be the picture of perfection with her job? All serious, all the time was going to make her go prematurely gray. That was if Crochan witches did so. “What is it? I’m getting ready to leave.”

“With Cenric?” Nadia prompted, with a sharp bite.

Abraxi folded her arms over her chest. “Excuse me? Last I checked, I do not answer to a guard.” Nothing flickered in Nadia’s gaze other than an arched brow. “Cenric is accompanying me with my father. I’m going to see Ciel.”

“Of course he is,” Nadia said, smoothly, her brows dipping, just a fraction. “I wanted to let you know that Cenric’s post has been moved to the opposite side of the castle, effective immediately.”

“Why?” She demanded.

Nadia’s gaze never wavered as she lifted her chin. “His position was compromised. I have Aalis and Renly stationed outside your doors. They are both highly trained and qualified to protect you, if need be.”

“I want Cenric.”

“Frankly, Your Highness,” Nadia said. “What you want and what you get are two different things. Even if you are royalty.”

Abraxi flared her nostrils. “He’s done a perfectly fine job and I don’t need protecting. I may not be a witch,” she seethed, stalking up to the Captain. “But I can defend myself just fine. Put him back.”

“No.”

Abraxi reigned in her rising shriek and growled, “I am the  _Princess_.”

“And I am in charge of making sure you  _stay_ the princess and not end up dead or worse,” Nadia shot back calmly. “The  _second_ Cenric Westfall decided to become intimate with a person of the royal household, he put his position and everyone in this castle at risk.”

Blood drained from Abraxi’s face at the knowing look in Nadia’s eyes. She screeched and stalked past the Captain of the Guard and out her rooms. The doors slammed shut behind her and she fought against the rushing blood in her ears.

She stormed past the guards and ignored the people giving her alarmed and amused looks as she found her way through the castle until she found him. Cenric was stationed with two other men outside the War Room.

Those coppery brown eyes locked on her and Cenric’s face smoothed into neutrality, more cold than she had ever seen, at least directed at her. She was going to ring Nadia’s neck. She stopped short when Cenric shook his head lightly.

The other two guards looked at each other and Abraxi smashed her teeth together and stalked up to him and said, “Cenric.”

“Princess,” he said, formally.

Gods. She hated that tone.  _Hated_ it. Especially from him.

She inhaled sharply. “Are you not coming with me and father?” Cenric blinked and she said, “You gave me your  _word_ , Cenric Theodus Westfall, that you would be coming with me. Or were you lying?”

Cenric shifted in his spot and he rubbed the back of his neck. A flush rose up on those golden tan cheeks. The other two guards hid their smirks as Cenric stammered, “I- I’m still coming, I just-”

“Go. Pack,” she ordered. “We’re leaving. Soon.”

* * *

Ciel climbed in the bed next to Sam, next to his mate and he brushed a lock of hair behind a pointed ear . Sam lifted his eyes to him, searching his face, everywhere but his eyes and said, “C’mere.”

Sam carefully pushed himself up on his elbows as Ciel lowered down into the sheets next to him. His mate leaned over him and kissed him softly on the lips, his warm, broad hand slipping down Ciel’s side reverently.

CIel made a noise in his throat, but he kissed him back. His body was moving on it’s own, his fingers bracing the side of Sam’s face, as Sam’s tongue slipped in his mouth. Sam should be resting, not making him scrap for shreds of self control.

_Damn him._

Nevermind the fact that Ciel just threatened the most powerful full blooded fae male in the entire realm. And Sam’s father. He truly was an idiot.

But Ciel pushed that thought away as Sam’s broad hand feathered across Ciel’s chest, his fingers resting just above his heart. Warmth spread through CIel’s body as Sam’s lips lowered to his neck, his shoulder, his throat.

Canines brushed against his skin, testing and curious and a bit possessive. Nowhere near the primal, carnal claiming that had happened outside the inn. A single word screamed in Ciel’s head as Sam’s teeth sunk into his flesh.

Ciel let out a shuddering breath as he fisted his fingers in Sam’s hair. A soft growl was in the bottom of Sam’s throat as he leaned further over Ciel to sink his teeth deeper. Gods, he was naked. Desire flooded Sam’s scent and Ciel’s eyes closed.

He fought against the growing ache between his legs as the feeling of Sam’s lips against his skin, the feeling of Sam’s fingers touching his body so reverently, just Sam, he never thought he’d get this. Not with Sam. Not again.

Sam flicked his tongue over the bite marks with practiced ease and a small part of Ciel wondered how many males Sam had bitten. Sam was older, a prince and had a true heart. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t ever bitten anyone either.

Sam looked back down at him and Ciel lifted his head to lick the blood from Sam’s bottom lip as he kissed him. Sam’s erection brushed against him and Gods, Ciel wanted it in him.

He clamped down on his rising desire and brushed his thumb across Sam’s cheek. His magic surged and he trembled with restraint as a soft moan sighed through Sam. Phantom hands bushed Sam’s side, around, across his back.

Sam”s breath hitched and Ciel pulled away to check his mate’s face for any sign of pain. But Sam’s turquoise, gold rimmed eyes were blown out, wanting, not a flicker of discomfort showed on the male’s handsome face.

And it gave him reason to do it again.

Ciel carefully pushed Sam onto his back. Sam blinked up at him and Ciel murmured, “Does it hurt?”

Sam shook his head as Ciel slipped on top of the male. Thank the gods for fae healing. His mate’s broad hands rested at Ciel’s hips as Ciel leaned forward to kiss him deeply on the lips.

HIs hair slipped over his shoulders and Sam’s hands slipped up his bare back. “Let me know if it starts hurting, yeah?” Ciel murmured against his lips.

Sam nodded and Ciel slipped off the male and pulled the laces apart at his hips and peeled off his pants. Sam’s gaze was pinned on him, hungry and preditortal. Ever the fae male. A lazy grin curled up on Ciel’s lips as he climbed back onto the bed and straddled Sam Galathynius’s lap.

Ciel grinded against the male, Sam’s half hard erection growing harder. The male’s breath shuddered as he tipped his head back, showing the scope of Sam’s tanned throat.

Ciel brushed his lips against the smooth flesh and a spike of desire rose in Sam’s scent. It was an effort to not bite down but when Sam said, hoarsely, “Do it. I won’t break,” Ciel’s control snapped and he sunk his teeth into the male’s throat.

He stopped his iron teeth from slamming down and continued grinding when he felt Sam’s fingers slide down past his hips and the cleft of his ass to brush against his entrance. Ciel’s breath caught as Sam pressed a finger in.

Never had he let another male inside him, none other than Sam all those months ago. Something that Sam didn’t remember.

Sam pressed in another finger and began scissoring. Ciel keened forward and claimed the male’s lips with his own, kissing him fluidly, lazily, indolently. His magic rose up in his veins as Ciel braced the male’s chest and Sam added in another finger.

“You’re tight,” Sam murmured, his eyes fluttering.

A flush rose up in CIel’s cheeks and he bit his lip, trying to not fuck himself on Sam’s fingers. “You’re the only male who’s touched me.”

Sam looked at him thoughtfully and ran a proprietary hand up Ciel’s thigh. “And I’ll keep being the only male who touches you.”

Ciel’s blood sang at the rough words. “Yes, Sam,” he breathed. “ _Yes_.”

Sam’s smile could put the dark god to shame.

“I wish you could remember that night,” Ciel said, brushing his hand down Sam’s chest. “Maybe things would be different.”

Sam looked at him beneath those long, long lashes and Ciel’s cock twitched. “I think I would treasure taking your first time,” Sam said, in a soft voice, the air pulsing around them with heat. There was a near primal purr to Sam’s words and it make Ciel’s heart race. “Treasure the memory of the look on your face with me inside you.”

“I bet you would,” Ciel purred.

Sam’s fingers pulled out, one by one, and Ciel barely swallowed his whine. He slipped his hand from Sam’s chest to between his legs to grasp Sam’s erection and guide it inside him. He groaned at the catch against the rim and nearly saw stars as he lowered himself to take the head.

“Easy,” Sam warned.

Precum slipped down Ciel’s cock and coated the insides of his thighs as he took him inch by inch. He let out a strangled breath when he finally bottomed out. Sam’s long fingers gripped the backs of Ciel’s thighs as tears pricked behind his eyes.

Holy.  _Fuck_.

Static filled his head and it was an effort to form any coherent thought. Sam was so hard inside him, to the point of pain. But Gods it was heavenly.

Ciel tipped his head back and panted as he adjusted to the intrusion. He slowly began rocking against the male, bracing Sam’s lightly flushed chest and willing his damned claws to stay  _sheathed_.

He lowered and claimed Sam’s mouth with his own. Sam groaned, his calloused fingers rising to clasp Ciel’s face harshly. Starlight coated his veins as Sam kissed him roughly. Ciel braced his arm on the pillow beside Sam’s head and pushed into the male’s lips.

He felt his hair slip further down his back, felt his hair slip over his shoulders. Sam cupped his head, his tongue demanding entrance into CIel’s mouth. He acquiesced easily, let Sam have his way, let his mate brush his hands down his back, let those hands grip his thighs.

Ciel groaned into Sam’s mouth as the male began stroking him. His walls clenched around the hardened cock sliding deeper inside him. “Fuck,” Sam panted.

A wince feathered through Sam’s face.

Heat pulsed again.

“Don’t move,” Ciel said, against his lips. “Let me take care of you.” Struggle flickered in Sam’s hooded eyes. He held the male’s gaze and said, firmly, “Give me the control, Sam.”

Sam’s nostrils flared and Ciel could see the male was seconds away from arguing. But then Sam tipped his head back and closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh, his hands going back to rest on Ciel’s hips. Sam yielded and Ciel leaned forward and braced a hand beside the male’s head and brushed his lips against the male’s.

He kissed him slowly, slipping a hand between his thighs to his cock. He stroked himself as he rocked his hips. The only sounds in the room were of his and Sam’s shared breaths and panting.

His groin tightened and he was so close. He held back, if barely, and continued riding the male beneath him, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder and nearly wept as Sam’s orgasm barrelled through him like starlight.

Ciel panted against Sam’s neck as his own followed. Sam’s fingers were tight in Ciel’s damp hair, his own chest rising and falling unsteadily. Sam murmured something against Ciel’s temple in another language. He guessed the old language of the fae.

“What does that mean,” Ciel said, against Sam’s heated skin.

“It means,” Sam whispered into Ciel’s hair, ‘I love you now, forever and for always. To whatever end.’”

Ciel’s heart swelled in his chest and he didn’t know how it managed to stay beneath his ribcage. He melted into Sam, curling his arms between them, Sam’s heart beat beat beating beneath his fingers. “I love you too, Sam.”

* * *

Lyria had gotten dressed as quickly as inhumanly possible when she heard her brother and Ciel start murmuring. She had nearly flew out of the room at the smell of arousal from the two males. This damned cheap hotel and far, far too thin walls.

Leave it to two horny males to find a way to fuck with an injury.

She had gotten out of hearing distance, even if they were trying to be quiet. And smelling distance. Last thing she needed was to hear her brother getting off. Or Ciel for that matter.  She went with her father and Gavriel, not trusting her father to not keep his hands to himself and not kill her mate.

Lyria lightly traced the wounds on Gavriel’s tattooed neck and sent that bit of water through to heal them. “I am, so sorry,” she whispered, lifting her eyes up to meet his. Gavriel looked at her intensely, those Lion Eyes blown out and his breath so dense.

She ignored the growl from her father, who clenched his jaw and looked back through the trees, towards Sam. She… understood. Her father’s protective streak of his family, she understood. She could never imagine finding the person she loved dead- pregnant nonetheless. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Gavriel curled his fingers around her wrist, brushing the sensitive underside with his thumb. Her heart picked up in her chest at the near primal look he was giving her. “I’m okay,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve had worse.”

Frost coated her veins and she bit back her growl. He offered her a tentative smile. She sighed and patted his chest. “You territorial brutes.” Gavriel arched a brow and gave her a  _look_ and she rolled her eyes and said, “Hush.”

* * *

Artemis had gotten used to the sounds of Pernnath the last year. He had begun volunteering with Elide and Marion at the orphanage, helping take care of the little hellions that were being left and adopted.

He walked the streets, listening to the chatter of the people around him. Artemis tried dulling the roar of dread in his veins, that his cousins were at least safe now. Though he held out little hope they managed to get away unscathed. Especially if Sam was burning down entire rutting forests.

His spiraling thoughts screeched to a halt as he stopped outside the building. A small bundle of blankets sat outside the front door, wriggling. His breath caught and he ran up and knelt in front of it.

Artemis looked down at the smooth brown face, at the dark gold eyes lit up and searching his face. Those eyes reminded him of a panther. Artemis scented him. Demifae.  Maybe seven months old. Smelled like forest and sunshine. He frowned. Why was his own scent entwined on the babe?

He pushed that away and scooped up the bundle in his arms and went inside and belined for Elide. He found the female with Declan tucked into her arm, resting in a rocking chair. Elide’s dark eyes flicked up to him and then to the baby. “Who’s this?” she asked, struggling to get up on her feet.

Marion tisked her mother and took Declan from her. “You just had a baby, Mother,” Marion scolded. “Don’t make me get Father.”

Elide’s nose wrinkled and she limped up to him and looked down at the boy in her arms. “Oh,” she whispered, running a thumb across the babe’s cheek. “He’s beautiful.” Artemis handed the babe over to her and straightened his jacket. “He needs a name.”

Artemis bit into his bottom lip. “Malik.” Elide lifted her dark eyes to him, studying him for a long moment. “What?” He demanded, rubbing the back of his neck. He willed the heat to not rise in his face. “It’s a nice name!”

A small smile curled up on her lips as she looked back down at the boy in her arms. “It’s a lovely name,” she murmured. “Marion.” Marion flicked her gaze to her mother in silent question. “Have another crib brought to the house. I’m going to find your father.” Marion dipped her head in a nod and Elide said, “Artie, come with me.”

Artemis followed after Elide, back to a room where Evangeline was waiting. His sister lifted her head the moment Elide and he walked in, those citrine eyes bright and vivid as she looked between them. Her eyes locked on the babe.

She got up from her work table and pushed her fire gold braid over her shoulder. “Who’s this?” She carefully took the babe from Elide and murmured, “Look at those eyes. So beautiful.” She took him to the far back wall where there sat an examining table of sorts. She began slowly unwrapping the blanket. “Let’s get you checked out, hmm?”

The boy reached up and grabbed at Evangeline’s braid with two pudgy little hands. A brilliant smile stretched on Evangeline’s face as she ran her fingers over his body, using her magic to check for injuries. “Demifae,” she murmured to herself. “Slightly underweight. Male. About six months.”

Elide looked at him. “Artie, will you stay with him while I go get my husband?”

“Orrrrr,” he drawled, “I can go get him and you rest so your daughter doesn’t smother me in my sleep with a pillow. Last thing I need is pillows in my lungs.” Elide wrinkled her nose and Artemis gave her a dazzling smile and said, “Stay here. I’ll go get your gigantic husband.”

* * *

Elide watched Artemis swagger out of the room and shook her head. She may have just had a baby and she may have had a difficult labor, but she was not an invalid. She survived worse for Gods’ sakes.

Evangeline gave her a warm, pitying smile and merely began wrapping the babe back up into his blanket and placed him in her outstretched arms. Elide looked down at the tiny thing, down at his beautiful eyes, as she brushed a thumb over his cheek.

Her throat tightened. How could someone want to give away such a blessing? To give up a child, to leave someone so defenseless to the world? Elide let out a slow and steady breath and pressed a kiss to his brow. She could feel his breath against her skin, soft and steady and warm.

Minutes later, Lorcan and Artemis came through the door. Her husband’s granite hewn features looked her over carefully before lowering his eyes to the swaddled demifae in her arms. His brows furrowed, just a fraction, before he slowly came up to them.

“He’s perfectly healthy,” Elide said, giving her husband a knowing smile. “Just a little underweight.” Evangeline nodded her confirmation.

Lorcan’s face didn’t shift as he carefully took the babe from her. He carefully cradled the boy in his arms and she could almost see a small smile ghost her husband’s lips as the babe’s fingers brush Lorcan’s hair. “What’s his name.”

A grin broke out on Artemis’s face as Elide said, “Malik.”

Lorcan nodded slowly, so slowly. Those dark eyes filled with ghosts as he said, “Good name. Strong name.” He paused for a heartbeat, brushing his thumb across Malik’s cheek. “Declan and Marion will have a brother,” he said quietly, shifting his attention to her in silent question.

Her heart filled and she nodded. “Marion’s already giving the order to have another crib brought to the house.” She took a step towards them and then another before running her fingers through the wisps of black curls on the babe’s head. “I don’t know why they gave him up,” she said, “but he’s ours.”

* * *

Cenric’s heart pounded in his chest as he thought about the look on Abraxi’s face. The disapproval of him being so far from her rooms, the annoyance of him being away from her. He didn’t let himself piece any of it together as he finished packing and heading out the doors.

He past several guards, ignoring their knowing smirks, and found his way to the courtyard. He found Abraxi standing next to Asterin’s wyvern, head to toe in flying leathers and her black as night hair tied back into a braid.

HIs mouth went dry as those upturned sapphire blue turned to him. A small smile tilted up on Abraxi’s face and he gave her a lazy grin and a dip of his head. “Princess,” he murmured, resting his hand on the sword at his side. “Ready to fly?”

Almost on cue, Asterin’s wyvern Kalani screeched something and nuzzled into Abraxi’s side, pushing the princess towards him. A brilliant flush rose in the princess’s face as she nearly stumbled into the ground from the sheer force of it.

Cenric had his hands on Abraxi’s arms, stopping her from falling all together. “Careful,” he whispered, against the shell of her ear. “It’s my job to make sure you don’t mess up your face.”

She righted herself and scowled at him. “You need to work on your tact, Westfall.”

He laughed and brushed her braid back over her shoulder. “You like it,” he said, unapologetically. She rolled her eyes and he took a step back from her as Dorian and his father came outside. Cenric schooled his face into indifference and bowed. “Your majesty. Father.”

Dorian gave him an odd smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Cenric,” he said, lightly. “I hear you were moved from your post.”

Heat seared the back of his neck and he didn’t dare look at Abraxi as he said, “It would appear so.” Dorian arched a brow and Cenric cleared his throat, “Who’s all going? I’m assuming you and Asterin?”

“And me,” his father said. Those coppery eyes were lit with disdain, his lips thin. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Cenric swallowed thickly and nodded. He followed after his father until they were out of hearing distance. Chaol Westfall turned around and leaned forward on his cane. “Are you going to be able to be a professional,” he said in a low voice. “Or will I have to guard the princess?”

Cenric bit back his retort and swallowed it down. He didn’t dare try to lip off to his father, the Hand to the King while he was still on duty. Abraxi would have his head if he got himself into even more trouble. He took a breath. And another. Before saying, “Yes, sir.”

His father studied him for a long moment before nodding once. “Very well. Let’s go. It should take about an hour to fly.”

Cenric didn’t have to be told twice. He followed after Abraxi towards another small wyvern. She splayed her hand on the wyvern’s snout and whispered something to it. It bowed low, for Abraxi to climb up.

He slipped in behind her and hooked his arms around her waist. Her faint scent filled his nose and he tried to not lean in and bury his nose in her hair to chase that scent to its source. But the Princess of Adalarn pulled him closer as the wyvern flapped its wings and rose into the air.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Sam was pulling his leathers on. He tied the laces at his abdomen feeling Ciel’s fingers brush the small of his back as he stepped in front of Sam. Sam didn’t say a word as he braced a hand on the wall dipped his head to kiss Ciel.

A light ache feathered in his back but it was painless enough he ignored it. He let Ciel’s arms hook around his neck as he pushed the witch back into the wall. He growled at the feeling of the witch’s long fingers in his hair, at the feeling of the witch’s cool chest against his flushed one.

The male’s Jasmine and frost scent filled his nose, rich with want and a mix of his own scent entwined. He couldn’t piece together the gravity of this, of the fact that this male, this witch, his best friend, was his mate.

Sam pressed a kiss to the corner of Ciel’s mouth, his jaw, his shoulder, his throat. The soft beating of Ciel’s heart feathered against his lips.

He deftly brushed Ciel’s hair to the side and opened his mouth and sunk his teeth deep.

Ciel’s head tipped back and a soft sigh escaped the witch. A knock at the door made him go rigid and a growl tear through his throat before he could stop it.

Sam pulled away from Ciel and the witch laughed breathlessly, his mismatched eyes bright in the light in the room. Sam wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb and forefinger before going to answer the door.

He jerked it open. “ _What do you want_ ,” he half snarled.

It took him a moment to realize it was Abraxi and Cenric at the door. The human male immediately had Abraxi behind him and a hand on the sword at his side. Both their eyes were averted, both their scents tinged with fear.

Fire coiled in his veins and he let out a breath and then another and another until he was sure he wouldn’t light the two on fire.

He felt Ciel come up beside him, felt Ciel brush his hand against his arm. “Brax,” he said, half startled, “What are you doing here?”

Sam looked at the witch, at the dark bruise marring his pale throat. He could still taste the blue blood coating the inside of his mouth. His teeth ached and he just wanted to bite him again.

A small smirk curled up on Ciel’s lips and Abraxi said, loudly, “We were worried about you guys. Apparently we had nothing to worry about, if you’re sucking  _neck_.”

Sam slowly turned back to her and he swallowed the growl building tightly in his throat. She was his friend. She was his friend and Ciel’s sister. He said it over and over in his head until it was the only thing going through it.

Cenric’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the sword at his side. Sam stepped further in front of Ciel’s path and Cenric said, “We’ll leave you and get checked in. It was a long ride.”

Sam didn’t wait for them to leave and he shut the door and had Ciel pinned back against it. Ciel’s eyes were light as a laugh came from the witch. “Lyria wasn’t kidding.”

Sam frowned at him and Ciel hooked his arms back around Sam’s neck and tugged him back down to his lips.

* * *

Abraxi and Cenric walked through the motel until she found her room at the far end of the hall. The room was small, quaint and had a decent size bed. Cenric did a sweep of the room and washroom while she gathered a nightgown from her pack.

Cenric clasped his hands behind his back and said, formerly, too formally, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

She tried to smooth the bite in her words. “What’s wrong with you?”

There was something like pain in those coppery brown eyes. “Nothing, Brax. I’m just doing my job.”

Before she could say anything, Cenric turned sharply and walked out of the room.

She stared at the door for a moment before shaking her head and going to the washroom.

She peeled out of the leathers and started the water. Her mind kept going back to Sam’s wrists, to the snarl from the demifae. To the bite on her brother’s throat. To the bare chests between the two.

She had been around fae long enough to know when a bond was being accepted. While she was happy for him, for them both, it didn’t stop the sinking in her chest.  
—

Cenric stayed at his post for hours. Abraxi never left her room. He had watched his father check on him three times and had watched Dorian head down to see Ciel, Sam and Rowan. There had been a glint in Dorian’s gaze when he glanced at Cenric at Abraxi’s door.

It was now two in the morning. The night was heavy with stars, everyone asleep. Or at least everyone other than he and Abraxi.

The door cracked open soundlessly and Abraxi came out. She was in a thin strapped flowy nightgown that went to her knees, her long black hair unbound as she looked down the hallways and back up at him.

“What-”

She held a finger to her lips then  hooked her fingers in a belt loop at his hips and tugged him inside and shut the door. Abraxi whirled on him and folded her bare arms over her chest. “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something?”

Pain. He was in physical pain.

“No. Of course not.” He swallowed thickly and said, “I need to be outside the door, Sorcha Abraxi.”

Her lips thinned and she took a step towards him. He took a step back and she frowned. “You  _can_ take a break, you know. You’ve been on guard for hours. There are fae warriors here.”

“Abraxi-”

She pushed her hair over her shoulder,showing the long pale plane of her throat. “You’d do your job better if you were in here, though,” she said lightly, a small smile curling up on her lips. “There are windows and we’re on the ground floor. What if someone tried coming in that way?”

“Um-”

She took another step forward and his heart started pounding. A hand pressed to his chest and those sapphire eyes turned up to him. “Kiss me.”

The air in his lungs escaped him and he was scrambling for a semblance of self control. Gods this wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair-

“Cenric,” she said quietly.

His control snapped and he cradled her face and kissed her deeply on the lips. Her faint scent filled his nose and her arms looped around his neck. She melded against him, his fingers brushing down her side, along the plane of her chest.

He let her press him to the wall, let her run her fingers in his hair, as they both tried smothering any noise they made.

Abraxi got up on her toes and kissed him deeper, hungrier, as if she were trying to get lost in the feel of him. He couldn’t do a damned thing other than let her kiss him senseless. He was so fucked.

She shrugged off his jacket, slipped her fingers up beneath his shirt. His skin ignited at the feathering brushes, at the light biting of her nails into his back.

Just for a few minutes. just for a few minutes, that was all he needed.

Cenric took off his sword-belt and let it drop to the carpet silently, his lips never leaving hers. He hooked an arm behind her knees and picked her up. She was so light, so light and he felt her smile against his mouth, felt her fingers run in his hair, as he took a long stride to the bed and dropped her onto it.

His entire body was running on it’s own, not letting him think. He didn’t have a damned clue about what he was doing. The smile Abraxi was giving him as she got up on her elbows, the way her gaze roamed as he peeled the rest of his shirt off and climbed up on the bed, he just wanted to make it happen again and again.

He claimed her mouth with his and brushed a hand up the hem of her nightgown. Her soft skin blazed beneath his callouses. Abraxi’s hands clasped his face and he realized he wanted. He wanted her so much it was driving every rational thought from his mind.

It was then he realized.

Abraxi Havilliard could rip out his heart and he would thank her.

* * *

  
Abraxi’s heart was going a mile a minute, her blood singing and mind completely blanking over as she forgot everything. Cenric’s lips took her apart, his rough hands touching, taking. She didn’t want him to stop.

“Cenric.”

He froze above her and looked at her.those coppery eyes burned, we’re so bright, so hungry. “Yeah?”

It was breathless, as if he needed to remind himself how to breathe. She felt her heart speed up and she reached forward with trembling fingers and went to the laces at his abdomen.

But his reflexes were too fast, his fingers grasped her wrist before she even touched the leathers. “Abraxi,” he whispered, his voice pained, “You know we can’t.”

_We could. We could if you weren’t so damned honorable._

“We can still do things without doing that,” she whispered back.

Cenric blinked and blinked again and again. His bare chest rose and fell, his heavy gaze never leaving hers, his hair in his eyes, as a small smile tilted up on his lips. “You’re going to be the death of me, Abraxi Havilliard.”

She grinned at him and he released her wrist. She untied the laces and watched the leathers slip at his hips. Ceric brushed her hair over her shoulder so carefully, so gently and slipped the straps down down down her shoulders.

His eyes lowered to her peaked breasts and he looked like a man lost in the Red Desert. Her heart hammered through her chest as he brushed a thumb over a nipple. Cenric’s breath was so shallow, his eyes so dark. Abraxi could barely piece together what they were doing.

Cenric braced a forearm by her head and kissed her deeply as he lifted the skirt of her nightgown. He pressed his forehead to hers, those coppery brown eyes never leaving hers. “Are you sure-”

She covered his mouth with her hand and hooked her legs around his hips and tugged him deeper against her. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Westfall.”

He gave her a feral grin and kissed her deeply. Cenric’s tongue brushed the seam of her mouth and she loved how easy it was to open for him. He groaned, his hips lining up against hers and she felt every neuron in her body light up.

She felt herself undulate against him, felt her knees tremble and Cenric ground back without a flicker of hesitation. Cenric, she realized, had done this before. Though she wasn’t surprised, not with a face like his. Or a heart like his.

But that thought was drowned by the feeling of lips against the side of her mouth, neck, shoulder, by the grounding hips of the boy on top of her. She was panting, his hand over her mouth to smother the sound from the fae hearing. And her brother.

He murmured her name against her skin, his mouth brushing so lightly against her neck. She traced her hands up his back. The skin was soft as silk, hot like the summer sun. She clasped his face with trembling hands, to see those coppery eyes blazing, framed with dark, dark lashes.

He opened his mouth to say something but promptly closed it. She didn’t know what he was going to say but when his lips connected to hers, she forgot the whole thing.

* * *

Ciel stilled and stopped in his footsteps and he turned towards the doors and scented the air. The air was thick with arousal, with-

Oh  _hell_ no.

He yanked a shirt on, and threw a shirt towards Sam, who’s brows were furrowed as he too scented the air. Sam caught the shirt before it hit him in the face and pulled it over his head. They quietly left the room and the hotel and went to the woods.

The moon bled down on Sam’s thoughtful face, the shadows of the trees darkening his tanned skin.

  
Ciel slipped his palm against Sam’s and laced their fingers together. Sam’s palm was warm, so warm, as they walked through the trees. He stepped in front of Sam, in front of his mate, and smiled up at him. “You’re so pretty.”

Sam blinked at him and Ciel blinked in surprise as Sam started laughing. His face was almost transformed when he laughed, when he smiled. “I know.”

Ciel just grinned at him.

* * *

HOurs later, Cenric’s eyes snapped open. He could feel Abraxi laying on his chest, could feel her heartbeat against his skin. He closed his eyes and swallowed the groan. What the hell did he do?

Cenric carefully pushed her off him and got to his feet and tied his pants and grabbed his shirt. He silently had them on and was out the door, back at his post where he should have been all night.

He broke his vow. He broke his vow to himself, to Abraxi and to his father and he was an idiot. A damned idiot for crossing the damned line that he had put on himself.

Cenric closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall and let out a choked sigh. He didn’t dare let himself think about those events.

He stayed at his post for another hour before he knew people were getting up and getting ready. He straightened when he heard whistling and looked to see Ciel coming down the hall with an apple in hand.

The male stopped in front of him and leaned back against the wall. Ciel’s gaze never left his as a long, iron claw slipped out and Ciel began peeling the apple. “So,” Ciel said, loudly. “How was your night? Stay out here all night? I bet you’re tired.”

Cenric felt his heart start pounding as Ciel’s eyes gleamed. “You know the  _worst_ part about being a witch?” He asked lightly. “I can hear and smell everything.” Cenric felt himself pale as Ciel took a step forward and braced the wall next to Cenric’s head.

Ciel’s long dyed hair slipped over his shoulder as he took a bite of the apple. “Are you sleeping with my sister, Cen?” He asked, smile never leaving his face. Cenric swallowed thickly and opened his mouth as Ciel continued, “Remember. I’ve known you for a very long time, Westfall.”

Sometimes he forgot. He forgot that the male in front of him was an Ironteeth witch. He was kind and lively and a bit of a troublemaker. But he was also a killer and a warrior who had on more than one occasion tore out people’s hearts with his claws.

  
Cenric let out a breath. “You know I’d never hurt her,” he said quietly.

Ciel cocked his head and then patted Cenric’s cheek. “I  _do_ know that,” he said, cheerfully. “That’s why we’re having a  _much_ different conversation than I did with Lyria. She embedded ice claws in my arm to protect her brother. Just imagine what iron claws could do.”

Blood drained from his face and Ciel pushed off the wall. He laughed. “Relax, man. I’m not going to kill you. Gods, I’ve known you since we were babies.”

Ciel turned on his heel and walked down the hall. His whistling returning.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian Havilliard looked at him, and despite his years, despite his life, those brilliant sapphire eyes, his sapphire eyes, were as bright and vivid as ever. “Finally decide to come see me?” his father asked, with a gleam in his eyes.
> 
> CIel bit back his smirk, and nodded. “Yes. I wanted to wait until Sam was sleeping.”
> 
> “For?”
> 
> So he couldn’t stop me. “I do not plan on returning to Adalarn,” Ciel said. “At least- at least not as the crown prince.”

Cenric could feel the eyes of his father on him the moment he entered the room. Chaol Westfall and Dorian Havilliard sat in the room, talking about the baby that was left at the castle gates and what to do with Ciel- a newly mated male and when would be a good time to drop this particular bomb.

But when his father met Cenric’s eyes, Cenric felt his face flush and he schooled his features into the picture of neutrality. Last night… last night played in his head and he crossed so many lines with Sorcha Abraxi, but he could not say that he particularly regretted it. “Did you keep at your post all night?”

Cenric chewed on his lip. “Yes.”

HIs father opened his mouth, but Dorian leaned back and said, “You do realize we are with several fae warriors in an enclosed place, yes? You didn’t need to stay outside Abraxi’s door, Cenric.”

Cenric blinked. “What?” He looked at his father. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

An unhappy smile curled on Chaol’s face. “Consider it your punishment for habitually leaving your post at the castle.”

Cenric sighed and Dorian’s lips twitched up. “Your friendship with my daughter is admirable,” he said, dryly. “I’m glad to see you two so close.”

His father grunted his disapproval and Cenric barely stopped himself from scowling at him. HIs father could think whatever he wanted, but Cenric knew what he was doing. At least, he hoped he did.

\-----

Marion was waiting in the snowy mountains, waiting for sign of the Ironteeth Princess to come. They had received word, that Rajni Blackbeak Havilliard was coming while her father and twin sister went to inspect the source of destruction- the source of Sam's pain.

It wasn't look until she saw the streak of black dipping down from the shadows, the telltale streak of unbound moonwhite hair a ribbon amongst the morning sun, that she felt something warm spread through her chest.

Abraxos landed like a streak of starlight, nearly head first until the last possible moment. And she could have sworn, just as those cool narrow gold eyes landed on her, Marion's breath stopped.

Dipping her head in a polite bow, Marion let out a slow breath and said, “Welcome Princess.”

Rajni’s lip curled in distaste as she dismounted her wyvern and started for the castle, her bloodred cape glistening in the snow. “Where is Aelin.”

It didn't take her much to keep up. “Castle. Library.”

She snorted softly. “Good.”

“Was your ride well?” She asked, trying to not fidget with her hair, especially as Rajni’s emotions shifted, just slightly. From ice, to luke warm. “I hear you are welcoming a new member to the family,” she added, neutrally. “You must be pleased.”

A slight lift of a shoulder. “She is lovely,” Rajni relented. “Beautiful and a blessing, for sure. Ciel, however, is going to have a coronary.”

Marion gave a quiet laugh. “I’m sure.”

And that half smile on Rajni's face, softened, grew more sincere.

They walked through the snow, movements silent as both had been trained so rigorously, by witches and fae alike. The guards they passed kept wary eyes on the princess of Adalarn and the witch kingdom.

Her reputation for bleeding men and discarding them was well known- though her interests lay with women. And she enjoyed the hunt. A true ironteeth witch. Crafted from darkness as deep as the darkest side of the moon.

\-----

Ciel sauntered through the trees with Sam in tow. They had left their parents and Lyria and Gavriel to their own devices and decided to scout the surrounding area. To be alone.

But they weren't alone.

He smelled her. A witch.

And he smelled blood, too.

Sam stiffened as well, snarling softly, a scar flecked hand going to a blade at his side. A witch blade that Ciel had given him.

Though simple, the bone handle was carved with feathers; just like the one laced in Sam's long golden hair. Whatever Sam's fixation with feathers, Ciel wasn't going to question it.

Flicking his gold rimmed turquoise eyes to Ciel, his mate signaled:  _She's alone. Just past the tree limits. Keep your magic ready._ Sam's  _eyes_ flicked to Ciel’s clawed fingers. _And those._

The promise of blood sang in his his veins. And with a dip of his head, Ciel followed Sam through the winter forest.

\-------

Among a circle of trees, was a camp and among the camp, was a scent that had haunted SAm’s nose since the mountains. ANd a phantom pain laced his back as he remembered the iron whip. Ciel, his mate, took notice. Just as Ciel had always done.

ANd the witch’s iron teeth slammed down, cold creeping around them, far colder than the infant winter that had come.  _Raw magic._

Sam was infinitely grateful for the fact he did not possess a lick of the kind of power in Ciel’s blood. His own flames were difficult enough, and he did not know what he would do if he were to possess something that could take any form and shape.

The fire in the center of the camp had been extinguished and black char marks coated the dried ground around it. Ciel’s bloodred cape swished in the snow as he went to kneel next to it, getting a better look at the pit. Flicking eyes to Sam, Ciel signaled:  _Minutes_.

Sam palmed his witchblade, the cool bone handle seeming to pulse with power against his skin.

They started up again, until they found the witch, cleaning blue blood from her claws and Ciel went still beside him. THe sharp tang of magic surged, wrapping around the witch, down her throat, cutting off her screams before they could even begin as she dropped down to her knees in the snow.

A small, cold smile curled on Ciel’s elegant face- the true face of the proud Heir to the Witch Kingdom. Cunning, cruel. Pitiless. Sam’s heart leapt into his throat as Ciel sauntered over to the witch, claws still out on one hand. Sam was sure the pale skin on the witch somehow paled further as she took in her prince. “Well,” Ciel purred. “What’s this?” CIel took a swipe of blood from her claw and brought it to his mouth. And promptly spat it out. “Crochan,” he half snarled. “I should kill you where you kneel. The penalty for murdering a Crochan is  _death_.”

The witch’s lips turned blue, from the cold and from whatever Ciel was doing to her. “Do it,” she wheezed.

He was slowly suffocating her.

Ciel’s lip curled, his mismatched eyes shifting to Sam, brows raised, as if saying:  _Your call_.

Facial expressions were not Sam’s… forte. But Ciel’s… CIel Sam could always read. Perhaps it had been the bond that made such communication possible.

  
Sam pressed the flat of his knife to the witch’s chin and lifted it, forcing himself to look in her dark eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at. An invisible hand brushed down his spine, as if comfortingly. Ciel. It took Sam a few times to speak, but he said, “I want her alive. We bring her with us, and we end this.”

Ciel smirked, and he looked back at the witch. “It would appear it's your lucky day. My princeling is far more forgiving than I.”

And with that, Sam flipped the blade and drove the butt into the witch’s forehead, and dropped her to the ground like a sack of Emrys’ potatoes. Blue blood leaked from the wound steadily but Sam found, he just didn’t care. Not as he remembered the newly fresh scars over his old ones.

\------

Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius fought the urge to go after his son and keep his eyes on him the entire time. Or on his daughter and Gavriel quietly talking in her rooms. Instead, he resorted to listening to the Hand and the King of Adalarn speak when he would much rather be doing something else.

BUt it would seem luck was indeed on his side when he scented his son, felt that calling of magic in his blood and Dorian looked up, at the door, towards his own son. The king rose gracefully and followed Rowan through the inn towards the back rooms.

Both warriors hauled in an unconscious witch, skin flecked with blue blood and an ugly bruise between her brows, where the butt of a blade no doubt had plunged and had her tied to a chair with bored, brutal efficiency. Just as Rowan had taught Sam.

His son’s face lost it’s neutral thoughtfulness and in this moment, it was the spitting image of Rowan’s, as Rowan knew his had been all those years ago on the hunt for his wife. Ice solidified his veins. He did not like this look on his son. But Sam… Sam, despite his heart, was also a fae warrior, a fae prince. And could be as brutal as the lot of them.

Sam wordlessly brought his hands down on the witch’s bound wrists, as she was tied to the chair, and he smelled the sharp tang of magic as Sam summoned flame and burned her. The witch jerked conscious and her splintering screams and burning flesh spliced through the air. But Sam did not yield a step. He did not falter. As he so softly said over her screams, “Let’s have a talk, you and I.”

\------

It had taken twenty minutes to glen each and every shred of truth from the witch and Ciel’s heart had dropped when he learned the sheer number of witches who were not allied to him and his. Which he supposed was well enough. They’d be dealt with swiftly. But Sam, the look on Sam’s face was nothing short of pure, ruthless predator.

HIs lips had drawn back, the sharp lethal points glinting in the light. The same lethal points that were responsible for the bite marks permanently displayed on Ciel’s throat. The claiming. He enjoyed this look- a little too much.

Once they had gleaned every shred of intel they could from the witch, Sam snapped her neck in one swift and brutal motion and walked away, leaving their fathers to discard the body.

Ciel went after him, after his mate and equal in every possible way. And he waited for a meltdown, instead, Sam pushed Ciel to the wall, and had their lips crushing. It took Ciel a moment to realize neither of them had removed the blood covered clothes from their bodies. But alas he didn’t care.

Sam’s tongue slipped into his mouth, his hand touching CIel’s face and a shudder raked through Ciel at the feeling of those pointed teeth against his lips. Anything and everything was what Ciel was prepared to lay at this male’s feet, to keep this kiss going, to keep this forever.

And Sam… Sam was kissing him as if anchoring himself in Ciel’s touch, his scent. His soul.

The bond between them glittered, as bright as any star in the endless night sky.

Nails bit into Ciel’s side and his head went back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut at the touch of Sam's mouth now on his throat. Ciel let Sam tug their clothes off, let Sam gently drag him back to the washroom and get in the tub. He let Sam use him in whatever way he needed to not fall back into the darkness of the mountains.

\--------

The walls of Orynth had not changed much in the months since Rajni Blackbeak had been here. The familiar presence of Lady Marion beside her did not falter, not as those black eyes surveyed everyone around them.

Marion, with Elide’s all seeing eyes and Lorcan’s brutality. Somehow a sweet girl while also ruthless beyond anything Rajni had ever seen. She was a knife’s edge hidden beneath her simple dress and witch’s jacket. The spark in her black eyes…. Showed just that.

She found Aelin in the library, hunched over a map, white knuckling a table. Rajni stilled and scented the air. SHe could smell the pregnancy on the young fae queen, but said nothing as those gold rimmed eyes lifted to hers. A small swaggering smile cracked on the queen's lips. “I see you have come to commandeer my library.”

Despite the casual words, exhaustion was thick in Aelin's voice. And Marion's black eyes flared. “You need to be in a chair, Aelin,” the young heir reprimanded, sharply. “Your condition is too precarious for this.”

Aelin lifted a brow, slipped her eyes to Marion. “For standing?”

Marion’s mouth was a tight, tight line. “Sit.  _Down_.”

Rajni bit back her snort and Despite the black glare the queen gave the young lady for ordering her, Aelin sat in the chair. “Fine,” she said, plopping down. “Rajni, have you heard anything concerning the kids?”

She shook her head once. “No. But father and my sister went after them. But I think they're fine.”

Aelin leaned back and threaded a ribbon of flame between her fingers. A shadow of what they used to be, according to her father. “Your Blueblood Petrah came for a visit,” she said, neutrally.

The only surprise she allowed herself, was a blink. But Aelin's eyes gleamed, despite that exhaustion. Beside her, Marion folded her arms over her chest and she glared daggers at the queen. Aelin said, “We might be suiting back up for war soon. What is your input on the wyrdgates? On the keys? You’ve read as much as I, probably more.”

She stilled. “I thought the Valg were dead.”

Aelin waved her hand. “Maeve and Erawan are dead,” she said. “BUt there’s still the brothers to contend to.” She put a hand on her flat stomach, as if she could feel that baby already. “Perhaps you’ll be able to find something in those ancient books you pretend aren’t hoarded in your rooms. I am already searching through ours.”

Rajni inclined her head. “I will see what I can find.”

Marion looked at her, her dark eyes searching Rajni’s face. She gave the witch a bored look and Marion’s ears turned red. She whipped her head back to Aelin. “If you like, I can look through the tomes in Pernath. I’ll be helping set up the nursery for Mother, so it will be no problem.”

An amused smile curled on Aelin’s lips. “That would be great, thank you. I am afraid we just don’t have any spare rooms at the moment,” Aelin said to Rajni. “Perhaps there’s some available in Pernath.”

Rajni narrowed her upturned eyes, well aware that Aelin Galathynius was lying through her damned teeth. “Of course,” she clipped out. “If it will not trouble the lady.”

Marion was also frowning at Aelin. “There are plenty of rooms in Pernath,” she said, softly. “I will see to it that Rajni has rooms of her own.”

Aelin beamed. “Perfect.”

\----

Stone. Her mate was the stone to her wind, water and ice. Lyria had been silently watching him for the last thirty minutes, writing out orders for his men to track down the list of witches Sam had forced the Yellowlegs to name. She hadn't seen  _what_ her brother had done to the witch, but by the gods, she heard the screams from across the city. And- and she knew Sam.

Sometimes Lyria thought Sam was so much more dangerous than her. His heart felt and saw so much, he had that kernel of  _humanity_ that none of their bloodline possessed. Perhaps that was what made Sam so dangerous. A fae male yes, but that human soul...

Lyria let out a choked sigh and Gavriel looked up at her, his solemn face searching her own. Lyria bit at her lip and without a word, he rose and came up to her. He was so tall, he towered over her and it was exquisite.

  
Cradling her face, Gavriel lowered, a breadth away from her lips, waiting for her to make the move. Lyria rose to her toes, she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him down, down, down. His scent filled her nose, his calloused fingers touching her skin.

The number of times she had thought about this, just a  _kiss-_ it had to be high. All she had wanted, for so long, was just a kiss from him. From her mate. Her soft spoken, honorable mate who had such a good heart. Who was better than she, in so many ways.

But…

She pulled back and looked into those blown out solemn eyes. “I don't-”

Gavriel put a hand over her mouth and leaned forward. “Lyria, Aedion is my pride,” he said, quietly, softly. “But  _you_ are my heart. We'll get through this… and Aedion will get over it.”

There was quiet hope in his eyes, she could tell he didn't want to strain the relationship between himself and his son. Not when he had spent so many years without him. Lyria bit back her sigh and slumped back against the wall. “I never wanted to put you in this position, Gavriel.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I'd rather be nowhere else.”

\------

Artemis, now female, wandered through the huge manor house of Pernath, towards the new room for the baby. It had soft green plush carpet and delicate ash wood furniture. It was remarkably beautiful.

As was the blithering baby sitting in the crib. She rested her light brown arms on the railing of the crib and peered down at the babe. He was already looking up at her, those golden panther-like eyes solely on hers. “Hello Malik,” she said.

Malik clapped his hands and she grinned as he tried getting up on his feet, only to fall back onto his bottom. She laced her fingers in his curls. “You’re such a cutie.” He gave her a bright, bright smile. “I bet you’re going to be just gorgeous aren’t you?”

His response was a squeal.

“- rooms down this way, but Malik’s rooms are down here too.”

“I wonder who that is,” Artemis said, scooping him up. “I bet it’s your sister.”

Malik fisted her hair and she went to the doorway, to indeed see Rajni and Marion coming this way. The two females were standing close, but there was a distinct awkwardness in Marion’s steps, even if her face was smooth, neutral, in its kindness. But then she frowned. “He is supposed to be sleeping, Artemis,” Marion scolded.

“He was already awake when I got here.” Marion folded her arms and Artemis smiled brightly. And looked at Malik. “Isn’t that right, Baby?”

Malik chewed on her hair. Artemis grimaced.

Marion sighed. “If he doesn’t sleep tonight,” she warned, “I will drag your carcass from Caraverre to babysit him- without pay, understood?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Marion scowled at her and Rajni snorted, derisively, golden eyes glaring with distaste. “If I am awakened by a baby, you will deal with  _me_ , girl.”

Artemis stuck her tongue out at the blackbeak witch. “I live with a witch, you don’t scare me, Rajni.”

A small smile curled up on Rajni’s face, her eyes flaring with challenge. “We’ll see about that.”

Marion hooked her arm in Rajni’s and started to drag her down the hallway. Artemis got the impression Rajni was  _letting_ her drag her. Artemis sighed softly and Malik pulled at her hair. Wincing, Artemis went back to the room and sat the baby on the floor and grabbed a few blocks and said, “We’re going to have some fun.”

\----

Rajni took in the place, she had the entire place memorized since she was a child, though she supposed she was still a child in the grand scheme of things. But that did not mean much to her. It did to Abraxi though, it did so much, and perhaps that made her a wretched person, but she could not- would not- think about the fact she was to live a thousand years while her sister would live a fraction of that.

Next to her, Marion was a sea of darkness and quiet. And she was very aware of Marion’s long calloused fingers digging into her arm as she dragged her down the hall. Marion pushed open a dark, ornate door and took her inside. “There are plenty of books here,” she said. “I had some servants go through the archives and bring you some of the tomes. I figured you’d either be reading or making some poor male miserable. I’d rather it be the former.”

Rajni snorted. “You don’t give me enough credit.”

Marion’s black eyes slid to her. “Don’t I?”

Marion unhooked her arm and took a step back, her breath shallow. “If you want something else to read, or would like something else, send word, and I will come.”

Rajni arched a brow. “You will come? Would you do a job of a servant? You are a lady, Marion.”

Marion smiled. “It would be no problem. You are a princess, and one of my oldest friends, it would be a pleasure.” Rajni stared at her, unsure how to respond. BUt Marion saved her from her own idiocy, by bowing her head and ducking out of the room, leaving Rajno alone with nothing but books and riddles.

\----

Eighteen year old Weylin started through the halls of Briarcliff Hall, to the summons that his mother had given him. He had been sparring with the Guard and he was sure his freckled skin was beyond fried, but he pushed that thought away as he found his mother in her study, going through a stack of papers.

Ansel of Briarcliff’s red brown eyes- his red brown eyes- met his and a crooked grin graced her lips as she motioned for him to take the spot in front of her desk. He did so and the moment he was sitting, she leaned back and pressed the tips of her fingers together. “You have been sparing a great deal lately, Weylin.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Not much else to do around here,” he half drawled. “I’ve been caught up with my studies for the next month.”

Her brow arched. “Crawling up the walls, are you?”

“Yes.”

She chuckled and ran her fingers through her graying wine-red hair and said, “How do you feel about getting out of here for a while? Perhaps going to see other kingdoms?”

He stilled. “Such as?”

Eyes gleaming, she said, “The princess Sorcha Abraxi Havilliard Blackbeak is of age to be wed. And as you have not found a suitable bride, perhaps you might find this arrangement to be advantageous.”

The only surprised he allowed himself was a blink. “I… was not aware that she was looking for a husband,” he said, neutrally.

She studied her unneat nails. “Yes,” she agreed. “Dorian Havilliard and I have been talking and we both seem to agree that this would work well in both of our favors. Abraxi is a lively girl who is well known to the wastes and I think, perhaps, with some time, you and she would make an excellent item.”

_Not likely_ , Weylin thought, miserably. But he dipped his head into a nod and said, “Of course. When should I prepare to travel?”

“Within the next few days.”

\--------

Abraxi had changed into a simple dress she brought with her and was walking through the gaudy hotel after lunch, back to her room, while humming to herself. She had not seen Cenric all day, almost as if he were avoiding her.

But last night's events, played in her head, all day long. She had found Ciel earlier and he gave her a look that told her, that he knew everything. Damn witches and their senses. A part of her, was horrified. There were fae and witches in this low-rate dive, and have most likely heard- and  _scented_ \- everything that had gone down between them.

But, she just didn’t care.

She found Cenric, outside her door, leaning back against it in such an unguardly manor, staring up at the ceiling. She whistled and he snapped straight and whirled to face her with wide, wide coppery brown eyes. She laughed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He opened and closed his mouth. Rubbed the back of his neck. “Good morning, Princess.”

She arched a brow. “It’s past noon, Westfall.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Right.”

SHe snorted and came up to him. He stepped back, hit the wall. And almost seemed to not be breathing. She cocked her head. He was flustered. It was endearing. And she hooked her fingers in his belt loop and dragged him into her room.

She shut the door behind them, and in a strained voice, Cenric said, “We can’t do that again.” She turned around and faced him, and his breath was shallow. She smiled and he swallowed thickly. “ _Sorcha_.”

Abraxi tugged at the laces on her dress and watched his eyes grow dark. “Yes?”

He dropped his head back against the wall and groaned. Abraxi silently went up to him, but didn’t touch him. Waited until he was looking back at her. “You liked it,” she said, baldly. “So did I. So  _why_ are you acting like this? We worked a way around it. Unless, you don’t want me anymore?”

He sighed painfully and dropped his head. “THat is… the furthest thing from my mind,” he rasped. Copper eyes met sapphire. “Trust me, it is… no. I do- it's just-”

“Am I that awful?” she asked, quietly.

Gods knew, she was temperamental. SHe was a brat, in every sense of the word. Entitled, a bitch. No sane person would want to deal with that. Least of all someone like Cenric.

He pushed off the wall. Grabbed her face and kissed her. It was deep, claiming and it obliterated her. Cenric pulled back, just a bit and he looked her in the eyes. “You are the best person I know,” he whispered, solemnly. “I will always want you.”

She breathed, “Then take what you want.”

Cenric made a pained sound, but his lips caught hers once more, desperate and deep. His arms scooped her up so easily and he carried her over to the bed, laid her down and settled a knee between her legs as he pushed back into her mouth.

He kissed and kissed her, as if drawing the air from her lungs into his. Everything about Cenric was sharpened. From the caullouses brushing up beneath the skirts of her dress, to his mouth steadily taking her apart. His body moulded against hers, as if it were made  _for_ her.

She touched his face, she slipped her hand down the collar of his shirt, nails biting into his sculpted back. He groaned against her skin and she knew… she would never get sick of this.

\------

That night, Ciel went to find his father, and found him talking to Rowan Whitethorn and Chaol Westfall. He had barely left Sam alone, and hadn’t been able to speak to him. But Sam was no asleep, back in their room and Ciel used this time, to slip out and speak to his father.

Dorian Havilliard looked at him, and despite his years, despite his life, those brilliant sapphire eyes,  _his_ sapphire eyes, were as bright and vivid as ever. “Finally decide to come see me?” his father asked, with a gleam in his eyes.

CIel bit back his smirk, and nodded. “Yes. I wanted to wait until Sam was sleeping.”

“For?”

_So he couldn’t stop me_. “I do not plan on returning to Adalarn,” Ciel said. “At least- at least not as the crown prince.”

Dorian arched a groomed brow and Chaol closed his eyes, pained. But his father said, “I figured as much.”  
  
Ciel bit his lip. “I know I have duties,” Ciel said, quietly. “I know, that I should put my kingdom first, but-”

“But you can’t,” Rowan said, clear eyed. “You can’t because Sam is your mate. And you will always choose him first.”

Ciel nodded.

He supposed, if there was anyone who understood, if there was anyone who understood Ciel’s place, and his heart, it was Rowan Whitethorn. “I am sorry,” CIel said, to his father. “But it is as Rowan said, I will always choose Sam first.”

“Well then,” Dorian said, “I suppose there is no choice. But first, I highly suggest you come home. If once before you go north.”

“To see mother and Brax?” CIel said, dryly.

“No,” Chaol said. “Because there is a witchling at the castle who has your eyes.”

The world tilted sideways and Rowan was on his feet, steeling Ciel in place, before he plummeted to the ground. “ _Excuse me_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Thank you for reading this~ 
> 
> I know that I have not updated this in a while, and that it is shorter than normal, but I plan to get back into it!!!!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan’s lips thinned. “I haven’t seen you in well over fifty years,” he ground out. “And you’re still an insufferable prick.”
> 
> “And you’re still on your knees,” Loki retorted, smoothly. “Just to a new queen. How predictable.”
> 
> Rowan snarled and Loki felt his lips twitch up. Rowan’s nostrils flared. He could see Rowan was fighting the urge to put his face through the window. “I want you gone by daybreak. If not, I will make you leave.”

Ciel flew for hours, his mind absolutely blank and filled with a roaring wind. Sam was on his heel as he stormed through the castle, his red cloak swirling behind him. Witches stationed bowed their heads, fingers to their brow as he approached his parents chambers.

He curled his fists, knuckles bone white. He hesitated at the door, not sure if he could open it, but behind him, Sam stepped ahead of him, hand to the knob, and Ashryver eyes flashed to his. “Come on.”

His throat tightened and Sam took his wrist and not ungently, pulled him through the doors. His mother and aunt were already inside, at a table. They both looked their way. He and his mother stared each other down, but Asterin went to Sam and hugged him tightly. One of the very few people Sam would let embrace him. “Gods you're so tall,” she muttered against Sam's chest.

Sam stiffened, hissing through his teeth, and Asterin pulled back instantly. Her eyes were wide, checking Sam for injury, but Sam just stepped back. “I'm just as tall as I was the last time you saw me,” Sam said, nonplussed.

Asterin folded her arms, looking up at him with a smile tinged with sadness. “So you are.”

Sam gave her a slight smile when he heard the doors slam open. Sam flinched hard enough Ciel felt a flash of heat. He broke eye contact with his mother just in time for someone to barrel into him from behind, an arm hooking around his shoulder in a hug. Ciel looked over to see eighteen year old Andras Westfall grinning brightly at him.

A blurry memory tugged at him, as his twin brother Asa, was seconds behind him, frowning. “Please stop tackling the crown prince. You’re going to end up puncturing a lung.”

\---

 _Three year old Andras ran into the room, dragging a wooden sword with him. He barreled into Ciel’s father, hugging him and demanding to be picked up. Dorian picked up the small witch, grinning at him. Nine year old Nadia was seconds behind the boy. Her copper eyes flashed with disdain. “Andras, you can’t_ do that _.”_

_Andras giggled, burying his face in Dorian's neck. Nadia folded her arms. “I apologize, you grace,” she said, to Dorian. “This one outran the sitter,” she said, shooting her little brother a poisonous glare. Andras offered her a toothy smile. She sighed._

_“Where’s Asa?” Chaol asked, from his chair._ _  
_

_Almost as if on cue, Ciel heard the small pattering feet of Asa Westfall and: “WAIT ‘OR ME ‘DREYYY!”_

_He turned around to see just in time to see Asa come in, in healer clothes, if not miniature healer clothes. Asa spent a lot of time with Yrene in the Healer’s Tower helping his mother and the other healers. Asa had already began showing signs of Yrene’s raw healing magic and had been as drawn to the healing arts as she had been. Luckily the healers at the tower, all hand picked by Yrene, all loved the little boy that wandered the halls, trying to ‘help’ them._

_Asa ran up to him and held a hand up to his brother. The twins, were almost identical, but Andras had hair a few shades darker than Asa’s, and was an inch or so taller. Andras wiggled in his arms, bending down to grab at Asa’s outstretched hand. Dorian put him down and Andras drug his brother over to Chaol, who was smiling softly at them._

\---------

Ciel barely felt Andras’s arm, but Sam growled. Andras looked at Sam, surprised, but Sam’s eyes were cold flames. Andras’s copper eyes darted between the two of them, his nostrils flared, and he instantly stepped back from him. “Smart male,” Ciel whispered, to is friend.

Andras grinned at him. But Ciel was looking back at his mother. He forced his breath calm. “Where is she?”

He figured she would approve of him getting right to it. Manon Blackbeak Crochan was up, and leading him back through her rooms to a small room with an elegant crib. His blood ran cold and he didn’t feel himself move forward, he didn’t feel the broad hand clasping his shoulder as he looked down.

Bright, mismatched eyes were already looking up at him, alive and crackling. If it hadn’t been the colors- it would have been that.  _She looks like me_ , Ciel thought distantly.  _She has my eyes_.

She could not be his, she… could. But, but Ciel knew, Ciel knew somewhere deep inside himself that this child- this witchling- was his.

He grabbed the railing to stop himself from crashing to the ground. He… he was a witch. A  _witch_. He shouldn’t have a damned kid. He shouldn’t have a child at nineteen years old when witches were notorious for difficult births. But here she was, staring up at him with those broken gold and sapphire upturned eyes.

Ciel’s voice broke, “I- I don’t-”

Next to him, Sam leaned forward into the crib and carefully put a hand on the witchling’s chest, as if he could feel her heartbeat beneath the fine red clothes. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured.

Tears pricked in Ciel’s eyes and he looked at Sam, who’s painfully thoughtful face was still on the child. Sam- He couldn’t ask Sam of this, he couldn’t ask Sam to take a child- to  _raise_ a child. Sam just accepted the bond after months of denying him for Ciel’s own safety. And Ciel could defend himself. But a child, an  _infant_ -

He could not ask Sam of this. But Sam's eyes were skating over the babe, his face unreadable. “We keep guards stationed around her at all times. A cadre member, for sure. Perhaps Fenrys. She'll have to be trained, without measure, by both witch and fae, so she can defend herself. And then anyone unknown in the kingdoms will be watched until proven trustworthy.” Ciel stared at him, wide eyed. Sam looked towards him. “What?”

“I can't- you don't- she's not your kid, Sam. I understand if… if you don't want this. I can't ask you to raise someone else's child.”

Sam's eyes flickered across Ciel's face, as of trying to decipher a book he did not quite understand. “She's your child,” Sam said.

He knew what Sam meant. She was his child, and Ciel was Sam’s mate. So she would be Sam’s child by extension. She may not be Sam’s blood, but she was Sam’s all the same.

Warmth spread through Ciel, and he hated how relief unknotted his chest. And he looked back down at the baby that was reaching up with small pudgy hands.

He heard someone come in behind them, and by the slight relaxing of Sam’s shoulders, he knew it was Lyria. She whistled low, and said, “You know, when I said that I was probably too late to stop you from knocking someone up, I was  _joking_.” He rolled his eyes and he heard her come up beside him. She peered down at the baby. “She looks like your and Sam’s love child,” she commented, glibly. “Blond hair, mismatched eyes. You always did have a thing for blondes, Ciel, you predictable fool.”

His face burned furiously and he shot her a dark look. But then the baby started babbling and Ciel looked back down at her. He wanted to move, he could feel it, in him, like a cord drawn taut and he wanted to believe he’d do the right thing.

Lyria nudged him. “Pick her up, she’s not going to bite.”

He have her a dry look. “You don’t know that.”

She snorted. “And thank the gods for that,” she said. “I never want to be a mother, at least not in the next century and a half.”

“What about Aedion?” Ciel asked.

She gave him a dark glare. “Stop evading. Pick her up.”

Ciel looked back down at her, at… his daughter. But he was frozen. He was frozen in place and he couldn’t do it. So Sam did. Sam picked her up with unnervingly steady hands and brought her to his chest. She had such… small hands. Such small hands and tufts of golden hair. Sam pressed his lips to her hair, his nostrils flaring delicately- he was scenting her, taking in her lineage, her self, everything she was. Sam’s eyes flickered as the babe rested her small fists on Sam’s chest. But Lyria snorted softly. “I think she likes you.”

Sam looked down at the small witchling, and smiled. “Everyone likes me,” he said, matter of factly. “Except for traitors and bigots.”

“...You’re not wrong,” Lyria said. Her eyes were on the baby, and Ciel could tell she was fighting the impulse to step closer. She wouldn’t dare, not with the bond. “What are you naming her?” she asked him. “We can’t just call her ‘Surprise.”

“Why would we call her Surprise?” Sam asked.

“Because she was a surprise,” Lyria explained, lightly.

“Oh,” Sam said, frowning slightly. “That’s not very creative. I think she should be called Maelin.”

Yes. She was of both their countries. Both their kingdoms. A child of both worlds to be named after their queens. “I like it,” Ciel said, in a small voice, not quite his own. “I think it’s perfect.”

Sam looked pleased. And smiled at him.

\----

Sorcha Abraxi Havilliard hummed as she went to her parents chambers. She could feel the phantom touch of Cenric’s lips on her, of his rough fingers fingers ghosting her skin. Her face burned as she thought about the few days before, that night with Cenric.

The witch guards were all looking at her, with gleams in their eyes. She glared at them and they looked up at the ceiling, as if they had never been looking at her in the first place. Cowards.

She found her parents strewn across the couch. Her mother's feet were in her father's lap. But instantly slipped down onto the floor the moment Abraxi was in the room. “So?” Abraxi asked, folding her arms. “What was this summons for?”

Dorian Havilliard looked her over and smiled. “You're eighteen,” her father said.

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you summon me to tell me things I already know? If so-”

“No,” her mother cut her off.

She frowned.

Her father leaned forward and clasped his hands. “I have been speaking with Ansel of Briarcliff as of late,” he said. “Her son is also of age to be wed.”

The world slipped around her and she dug her heels into the ground before she collapsed. “You want me to marry Weylin?”

His sapphire eyes glowed. “If you find him agreeable,” he said. “You would be able to strengthen our alliance and he is a good man. There is a possibility that you could grow to be something more.”

She blinked several times as the words digested. “Is- is he coming here?”

Her mother nodded. “I received word just before you arrived that he was on his way.”

\-----

Asa was leaned against the wall when he heard someone running at top speed through the castle halls. Rowan Whitethorn was already up on his feet, a hand on the sword at his side when a healer barged into the room. Her eyes instantly went to Asa and were so wide. “We had a man- male brought in,” she said. “His organs are nearly hanging out of him. A witch got her claws in him.”

“A male?” Rowan said.

She nodded. “He has long mediumish brown hair and green eyes. And he’s demifae. He doesn’t look like any of the fae I’ve seen around here, though.”

Rowan’s face went bone white but Asa was already moving, running down the hall towards the Tower. He heard Rowan in step with him, but Asa was too concerned with making sure the male in question wasn’t going to die.

He threw open the doors and was through the twisting halls back towards the room where he could smell the blood and demifae male. Asa ordered a few acolytes to bring him supplies and he washed his hands before going to the male.

The male’s skin was pale- so pale, and flecked with blood. His eyes were closed, his long lashes framing his sharp cheekbones. Blood matted down his hair and his sculpted, scar flecked chest was without a shirt, black pants sitting pleasantly from his hips.

 _Oh_ , Asa thought absently.  _He's beautiful._

Rowan snarled and Asa shot him a warning look. “What? You know who this is?”

Rowan’s eyes were pine green ice chips. “ I do,” He said. “This is Loki Helsone. Cairn’s brother.”

The acolytes rushed in with his supplies. He could smell their slight fear from Rowan being in the room.

“Don't you dare ask me to not heal him,” Asa said in a low voice.

“I won't,” Rowan said. “I have questions.”

“Not until after I say so,” Asa clipped out softly. “Now get out so I can save his life.”

\-----

Rowan did as asked, if only because Asa could be his own level of a threat, at least where his patient's safety was concerned. And he did not feel like getting into an argument that would have both Yrene Westfall as well as Ciel- and by extension Sam- at his throat.

He went back to the castle, to find Gavriel, and to go over the threat of the rogue witches.

Loki was Cairn's half brother and had sworn no allegiance to either Aelin nor the other fae queen. He wandered the realm, mostly to himself. Like Cairn, he had his own level of a sadistic streak, but unlike his brother, he was apathetic enough to not be outwardly cruel to anyone, at least from what Rowan had seen.

He was too cold, too aloof and disinterested to bother with anyone. He had fought with him, once or twice in the last three hundred years, but had not seen him in nearly fifty. His mouth left little to be desired and was brash and sarcastic to the point Rowan had wanted to rip his head off. On multiple occasions.

He would deal with Loki when he woke up, and find out what he was doing in these lands. Then he'd decide what to do from there.

He found Gavriel and Lyria in a borrowed room. Gavriel was sitting, writing, and Lyria was huddled over the desk, her unbound silver hair cascading down her back. Her pine eyes lifted to Rowan and were colder than almost anything he'd seen from his daughter.

Gods, she was not going to let any of this go any time soon. “What,” she clipped out, straightening. “Get bored terrorizing Asa and decided to turn your efforts to me and my mate?”

He growled at her, and she growled right back. Gavriel was up on his feet and silently getting between them carefully. “Lyria,” he said, softly, looking at her pointedly.

Her shoulders unwound, but her death glare was securely in place. “What do you want?”

Rowan looked at Gavriel. “You will never guess who showed up in Adalarn.” Gavriel turned those tawny eyes to him. And his brows rose in question. “Loki.”

His face paled. And he growled. But Lyria frowned. “Who’s Loki?”

Gavriel’s face set into a harsh line. “No one good.”

\-------

Ciel was in Maelin’s room, eyes half closed and laying out on the couch while Sam was talking with his father- the king of Adalarn. Probably about how Ciel gave up his crown- Ciel had told him, and Sam had looked at him blankly before leaving to talk to Dorian Havilliard.

Ciel dragged a hand down his face and bit back his groan. He wasn’t surprised at Sam’s reaction- not at all. There had been a reason he had chosen to yield his crown while Sam was asleep. So he couldn’t talk him out of it. After all- fae males lived to serve, and Sam served his crown with his whole heart. It was why Ciel could not make him choose-  _would not_ make him choose.

Not between him, and definitely not between a country responsible for so much bloodshed of his countrymen.

A soft cry pulled Ciel from his spiralling and he jot up, his head whipping to the crib. His throat tightened, and every ounce of his body was taut with wanting to bolt in the opposite direction. BUt he forced it down, got to his feet and went over to the crib.

Tears streaked Maelin’s face, her mismatched eyes squeezed shut as her cries grew louder, sharper. Gods above, she had a set of lungs on her. He had to force himself not to cover his ears and pick her up instead.

He cradled her to his body and whispered to  _please stop crying_. But she didn’t and Ciel would almost rather deal with a legion of witches than one crying infant.

“You’re holding her wrong,” a voice said.

Ciel didn’t dare look over his shoulders, and his mother came in and carefully moved Ciel’s hand so he was cupping the back of Maelin’s head, and the other under her bottom. Manon’s golden eyes were calm, steady as she helped Ciel before he ended up killing his kid with his idiocy. “You need to support her head,” she said, eyes going up to his. “Breathe, Ciel.”

He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what to do.”

Her lips twitched. “No one does the first time.”

He ran his thumb through Maelin’s hair and her crying settled down. The knot of fear started to unravel. “She never told me,” he whispered, trying to not look away from his mother. “I never- I didn’t know. I swear on the gods, I did not know.”

“I know,” she said, calmly. “We found her and got answers.”

“Found- what she didn’t bring her with her?”

“Maelin was found on the castle doorsteps,” she said, coldly. “We sent out the shadows to find the mother.”

  
Ciel blinked. “She  _what_.” She nodded, just once. Ciel took a breath, calming the frost building in his blood. Last thing he needed was for his magic to lash out, lest it harm his witchling. “Is she still alive?”

“Do you  _want_ her alive?”

“Well I don’t want her  _dead_ ,” Ciel groused. She arched a brow and he said, “SHe’s the mother of my kid. I can’t very well kill her.”

She nodded. “We got questions, gave her some money and cut ties. She’s not to see her again.”

Ciel opened and closed his mouth. “But- she’s her mother.”

Manon Blackbeak’s eyes were gold ice. “She left a witchling-  _royal blood_ \- on the steps, in winter. Alone. She is lucky she is still breathing. Once upon a time, she would have been skewered. Do you think we were unjust?”

Ciel looked down at Maelin, whose fingers were clenching his jacket. She was so small, so vulnerable. And prized. A witchling… She could easily have been killed by the elements, by worse. An infant,  _his_ infant. “No,” he said, coldly. “I do not.”

\-----

Sam Galathynius traced the feather in his pocket as he wandered the halls of the Adalarnian Castle. It was always a bit interesting, to be here, after he had heard the stories from his mother about her time here- and about the time when Terresen was a conquered kingdom and his mother had lived her life not as Aelin Galathynius, but as Celaena Sardothien.

He couldn’t imagine it, not being able to go home, back to the mountains and the snow and the pine. And even with- even with their history, he couldn’t have Ciel give up his birthright to Adalarn’s throne for him.

Sam stopped in front of a set of doors, ignoring the guards, and he knocked. A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing Dorian Havilliard, who looked none at all surprised to see him. He gave Sam a smile. “Come on in, Sam.”

Sam followed him and took note of the royal chambers that was littered with books and weapons. His own room was similar, in a way. But there was a much more clear organization of his books, than Dorian’s. He felt a frown tug at his lips.

Dorian sat in one of the chairs, gesturing to the one across from him. Sam remained standing, his fingers still tracing the feather. “Give Ciel back his crown.”  
  
Dorian leaned back and sighed softly. “You know, I have known you since the day you were born,” he said. “Your lungs were underdeveloped, but I healed them, just enough so you could breathe on your own. And then your mother was here for Ciel’s birth- so were you. You gave him one of those feathers you are so fond of.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Our history has not always been a good one, your kingdom and mine.”

“I know. Your father enslaved half the continent because a demon told him to do it.”

Dorian winced. “Something like that, yes. Sam, Ciel loves you. He loves you more than he loves air and I respect his choice to not make his mate have to choose between his duty and him. I think you should, too.”

“Ciel is a prince; a  _crown_ prince,” Sam said. “And he has his own duty to his own throne.”

Dorian cocked his head. “Would you give up  _your_ crown, Sam? Move to the kingdom that had enslaved yours? Or would you separate yourself from him solely because of your duty- right after accepting your bond,” he said, looking at the bite on Sam’s throat. “Did you know that Darrow and the lords had suggested to your mother that she marry Aedion. But she wouldn’t deny her heart- and if she had, she would not have had you.”

Sam’s throat tightened and he tightened his fingers around the feather. “I can’t- I can’t let Ciel sacrifice his birthright for me. I can’t do that.”

Dorian leaned forward. “Sam,” he said, softly. “You aren’t ‘letting’ Ciel do anything. This was his choice, you need to respect that.”

“Don’t you want him here?”

A small, odd smile tugged at Dorian’s mouth. “What kind of father would I be if I denied my son his heart?”

\----------

Cenric walked through the castle with his hands in his pockets, trying his damned best to avoid his sister and Rajni. Rajni Havilliard Blackbeak slightly terrified him and he did his best to avoid her as often as he could. It probably wasn’t smart- messing around with Abraxi, her twin sister. But Cenric could not help himself.

Cenric rounded the corner, lost in his thoughts of the few days before, and he nearly ran Abraxi down as she came out of her parents room. Cenric grabbed her arms before they collided and wide, wide sapphire eyes lifted to his. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She inhaled sharply, looked down the hall before grabbing his hand and dragging him  _back_ down the hall and to her bedroom. Aalis opened her mouth, but promptly shut it at the death glare Abraxi shot her.

She pulled him into her room, shut the door and whirled on him. Cenric froze in place, watching her circle the room like a caged jungle cat.

 _Now what_ , Cenric thought, with a panic.  _Why does she look like she’s about to rip someone’s head off_.

Normally, this would be slightly amusing to watch. But not when he was the only person in the room to take the brunt of it. He very much liked his head  _attached_ to his shoulders. “Sorcha,” he said in a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

She halted so hard, her hair bounced down her back. Cenric’s mouth went dry. It was- distracting. To say the very least. She fisted her fingers in her skirts and looked at him. “I am to be married,” she said.

His head went blank. “To me?”

Did her parents find out, about the inn? Dorian-

“No,” she said. “Don’t be stupid. To Weylin of Briarcliff. Father- he says that I’m to marry him, that if I find him suitable, I am to be his wife.” Blood rushed from his brain. He gripped a hand on his sword pommel to stop himself from crashing to the ground. Gods.  _Gods_ -

“Say something,” Abraxi snapped.

HIs head snapped up. “What?”

She looked at him as if he were obtuse. “I have to get married,” she enunciated slowly. “ _Say something_.”

Cenric steeled himself in place. And he bowed his head. “I suppose congratulations are in order,” he said, in a low voice. “Weylin is a good man.” he choked the words out. They tasted like ash, but they needed to be said.

“‘I suppose congratulations are in order’,” Abraxi echoed. “I just told you I had to get married. And after- after all of this,  _that_  is what you have to say?”

“What do you  _want_ me to say?” he asked, barely keeping the hopeless edge out of his voice.

“How about how the truth?” she snapped. “Tell me you don't want me to do it. Tell me that Weylin isn’t right for me. Tell me that I deserve better.” She grabbed his arms. “Tell me your honest to gods truth.”

He forced a cool, neutral look on his face. “I wish only for your happiness, Sorcha Abraxi.”

She pulled back, as if burned. Her pale face flushed in anger and he tried not to not wince. “You’re a godsdamned  _liar_.”

He let out a soft sigh and squared his shoulders, hopefully making himself look taller than he felt. It was easy, to fall back into the role of a guard. “Will that be all, Princess?” he asked, in a tone he knew had Abraxi wanting to rip his face off.

She stared at him for a long heartbeat before screeching and stalking past him. Her shoulder hit him hard enough he nearly fell back a step. He watched her throw her doors open and disappear through them. It was an effort to not follow after her and apologize.

\------

Rajni had spent the morning and half the afternoon pouring through book after book about the valg- but she couldn't find much that she didn't already know.

She rubbed her temples and pushed the book out of her lap. She needed a break before she ended up shredding everything with her claws.

She got up, smoothing down her shirt and started down the hallway. She could smell Marion's scent in the new baby's room, as well as Artemis and Declan. She shoved her hands in her pockets and leaned against the door frame.

Marion was sitting in the chair with Declan while Artemis and Malik were sprawled out on the floor playing with each other.

She felt herself frown in distaste. Babies were about as interesting as a pile of rocks and were good for nothing other than waking her up in the dead of night. Already she had both of those babies waking her up from a dead sleep while they screeched at the top of their lungs.

Marion looked up from the baby, her sharp black eyes searching Rajni's face. “Didn't find anything, did you?”

Rajni shook her head. “Nothing we already don't know.”

She sighed and went to put her brother in one of the cribs before stepping over Artemis and hooking her arm in Rajni's and leading her down the hallway. “Where are we going?” Rajni asked.

Marion smiled. “To the aerie. I think Nila would like to see you.”

Rajni snorted. “Very well, then. We shouldn't keep her waiting.”

\-----

Artemis laid on her back, sprawled out on the floor as she watched Malik reach for and chew on the blocks. His golden eyes were bright as he looked up at the ceiling lights. She tried to imagine what he would look like when he was older. It wasnt hard with Dex- he looked like his father. But Malik had darker skin and curly hair. She didn't know what he would look like- let alone what his animal form would be.

She felt sad, that his birth parents wouldn't be there to help him with the shift when the time came. Neither Elide nor Lorcan could shift. Neither could Marion, so it was highly unlikely that Declan would either.

She supposed, it would have to be her, then. When the time came. She could shift into anything and no matter the animal, she would be able to help him.

Malik kicked his small feet into the air and Artemis rolled onto her stomach and pried the block out of his mouth. “These are for building, not  _chewing_.” He blew raspberries at her. “Hey. I don't want your sister to smother me in my sleep. Then who would give you so much attention, huh?” she asked, poking his belly. “That's right. No one.”

He squealed and turned on his side, reaching for the block in her hand. She sighed and gave it back to him. Which returned promptly to his mouth. She rested her chin on a fist. “Don't say I didn't warn you. You'll be all alone to have no one but the very uncool, uptight bossy fae to show you how to shift. Then you'll regret it.”

“Now that's just rude,” a voice said.

Artemis looked over to see Fenrys leaned against the doorframe. “I am neither uncool nor uptight,” he said, his lips twitching into a mock frown. “Do not mix me up with Rowan Whitethorn and Gavriel. Or gods forbid  _Lorcan._ ”

She grinned at him. “Shush. I'm trying to teach him not to chew on  _wood_.” He snorted. “Just because you play fetch does not mean he will.”

His mouth dropped. “Careful Ashryver. Your mother will not be fond of knowing her child is sassing the adults.”

She wrinkled her nose. “As if you qualify as an adult, Fenrys  _Moonmoon_.”

He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed deeply. “My youthful appearance radiates maturity and wisdom. Do not let my roguish grin fool you otherwise.”

Artemis scoffed and rolled onto her back. “Will Sammi and Connie be as full of themselves when they reach maturity?” she asked. “Poor Asterin.”

He winked. “One could only hope.”

\-------

The aerie was nearly empty of wyverns, all except for Nila, who was sleeping in the corner with her snout buried beneath her arm. Marion breathed in the winter air and let it settle in her bones as she unhooked from Rajni’s arm and went to brush her hand down Nila’s mottled snout.

Nila huffed and blinked her eyes open. Marion smiled. “Hello girl,” she said, softly. “I brought a friend to see you.”

Nila lifted her head, those bright eyes going to Rajni. The ground nearly shook as Nila rose to her feet. She tucked her wings in tight and nudged her head against Rajni, nearly throwing her off her feet. A small surprised sound- almost inaudible- squeaked in Rajni’s throat. Marion hid her smile as Rajni scowled at the overlarged worm and pressed her finger to Nila’s snout. “Still being lazy beast and sleeping all day, I see. If you're not careful you're going to end up overweight and your wings unable to carry you.”

Despite the sternity of her words, Rajni's aura was streaked with the colors Marion had come to associate with happiness and amusement. Nila rumbled her response, and whatever Rajni took of it, it made her snort. “Well met, friend. It has been much too long.”

\--------

Gods, his stomach felt like it had been ripped to shreds, as if iron had been rammed through him- had gutted him. Pain laced each breath, pulling a wheeze from deep in Loki Helstone’s lungs. He forced his eyes to open and pain jolted through him as he tried sitting up.

He didn’t recognize the cieling above him. Or gods above- the honey and berry scent that caressed his nose. But he was too focused on the feeling of stitches stretching across his stomach and the light feeling-

His weapons.

  
Where were his  _damned_ knives?

Loki rolled over to his side, grabbing the side of the bed to haul himself into a sitting position. At the edge of the bed, a man- no male- a male was sitting, with skilled slender hands resting between his legs, laced. But he was up and moving towards Loki. “Sir, you need to lay down”

“Get away from me,” Loki snarled. “Where is Slepi?”

“Sir-”

Loki wheezed and threw his feet over the side. He had to get to her, he had to get to her and get to those  _damn_ witches to return the favor. Last thing he needed was for the damn Whitethorns or other fae in the area to know he was near.

The healer snarled-  _snarled_ at him. “SIR _. I suggest you do what I damned well said and lay your hulking ass down so you don’t ruin my handiwork_.”

Loki froze and lifted his head. The healer’s drawn face was darker than most he had seen in this area- and it suggested familial ties to Eyllwe. He looked to be about nineteen, but Loki’s magic sensed the swell of raw power in the copper eyed witch. “I can’t pay you,” Loki lied, baldly. “Unless you want to… work out an arrangement. Otherwise-”

The healer’s face burned scarlet. “I do not need any payment for saving your life. I do not trade sex for healing. Now please,” he said, his voice softening, just a fraction. “Lay.  _Down_.” Loki growled, but the healer didn’t blink. “You almost died. You’re safe here- no one will harm you.”

Loki scoffed, but laid back down. His head hit the pillow and he splayed his scar flecked fingers on the stitching on his stomach. “How did I get here?” he asked, turning his head so he was looking up at the witch. “Last thing I remember is the trees engulfing in flames.”

“The healers said your horse carried you into town, and you were brought to my room. It took hours to stop the bleeding. There were shards of iron imbedded in your organs.”

Loki closed his eyes. Shit. He was going to skin that witch bitch alive if he ever got his hands on her. “Where is my horse?” he asked.

  
“I can ask,” the healer said. “I haven’t left your room since you were brought in. I wanted to make sure you were okay before I left.”

That made Loki open his eyes and frown at him. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked. “That you were  _that_ invested in making sure I woke up? You don’t know me, you don’t know a damned thing about me or what I have done.”

The healer’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “Be as it may,” he said, tersely. “I would never not heal someone just because I didn’t know them.”

“Sure,” Loki said, closing his eyes, once more. “You’re young. Talk to me again when you’ve lived a few centuries. Then we’ll see how quick you are to heal a stranger.”

“I know who you are.”

“Oh do you?”

“Your name is Loki Helstone,” The healer said, coldly. “You are brother to a psychopath and have no allegiance to anyone. You kill for money and have a tarnished reputation with the fae to the north.”

Loki huffed a silent, rueful laugh. He wasn’t wrong. Loki owed no one his allegiance, not when they all looked at him as if he were no better than Cairn- and perhaps he wasn’t. But no one-  _no one-_ knew the level of sadisticy that that evil bastard had more than him. Except for perhaps Aelin Galathynius herself. Cairn was his older brother- and he made sure that Loki remembered it.

“And how is it, little witch, do you know these things?”

“I have a name,” he groused.

“I’m sure you do,” Loki said, carefully folding an arm behind his head. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

A pause. “Rowan Whitethorn told me,” he said. “He and his children are visiting Adalarn as we speak. And he was present when I was alerted to your arrival. He wants to question you.”

Loki tried to not still, and he wheezed at the tight pain in his stomach. “Fantastic.”

\----

Cenric’s head was blank as he walked down the halls. He had not expected for Abraxi to tell him that- and he sure as hell did not expect to react that way. These last few months, what they had been doing… fool. He was a damned fool.

 _Tell me you don’t want me to do it_.

  
Gods above, he didn’t, but what would telling her that accomplish? It wasn’t like  _he_ could marry her. He was too low born, he was not a prince, he was not a duke or anything else. Even if his father was the hand, even if his father was the Lord of Anielle, Nadia was the eldest,  _she_ was his heir. Not him.

He was a guard. And not a very good one either.

He was not worthy of the title of her husband.

Cenric cursed his idiocy. And worse- Weylin… Weylin was a good man. He was thoughtful, kind, though he was slightly arrogant. But he was also a prince. Cenric couldn't be rightfully jealous because… Because Sorcha Abraxi Havillard Blackbeak was never his to begin with.

But why then did his heart feel like it had a knife twisting in it?

He halted in place when he heard a low whistle behind him. He closed his eyes and sighed. “What, Andras?”

His little brother came up and slung an arm around his neck, dragging Cenric down the hall with him. “Word around the castle is Abraxi’s getting married.”

“Yes,” Cenric hedged. “What about it?”

Andras looked at him, a little too closely for his comfort. “And how is my dear brother handling this?”

“Why would I care if she’s getting married?”

“Because you and she have been screwing around without actually screwing.”

Cenric halted in place and glared at him. “ _Andras_.”

He rose a groomed brow. “What? It’s like the worst kept secret in this entire damned castle. You humans are much louder than you think you are.”

Cenric felt his face burn. “Rutting witches,” he muttered, and turned on his heal. “Gods forbid you keep your mouths shut.”

\--------

An hour later, Loki had managed to get up off the damned bed and was staring out the window. He could see the streets of Adalarn- could see the cobblestones stretching down and across the streets until the streets were little more than pinpricks.

He had been told Slepi was tied up in the stables with the other horses, and it had been a relief. Now he was more worried about getting out of here with his head still attached and not to have Rowan Whitethorn skewer him with a shard of ice.

The familiar scent of honey and berries caressed his nose and a heartbeat later someone knocked on the door. He did not bother trying to turn around and hide his back before the door opened. He was too wounded to pretend he was fast enough to hide Cairn’s handiwork. The healer inhaled sharply. “Your back-”

Loki snorted derisively, running a finger along the windowsill. “Relax Healer. I haven’t felt any pain in my back since I was ten years old.”

His memories were stained red with tools used to skin and carve and slice. With his brother’s molten eyes and sadistic smile. He knew his back had dozens upon dozens of scars from those thin tools. He had more scars on his wrists from being bound so Cairn could work uninterrupted. Aelin had gotten the healers while he… well. He did not.

“Did Cairn do that to you?”

Loki looked out the window. The starting winter air had many Adalarnians starting to bundle up in coats. “Do you care?”

“Yes.”

Annoyed with how long it was taking, Loki managed to turn around and lean back against the wall. The healer’s eyes were bright with sincerity, with anger and warmth. But Loki ignored it. “Where’s Whitethorn?”

“Do you  _want_ to see him?”

No, not really. “The faster I do, the faster he’ll leave me alone.”

The healer’s lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “That does seem to be the general consensus when it comes to dealing with Rowan Whitethorn. I will retrieve him for you.”

Loki brushed his fingers along the stitching across his stomach and watched him disappear through the door. He used the next few minutes surveying the room for useful weapons. All the healer’s tools were gone, as was the mirror used. He could probably use the chair, or the bed. Maybe asphyxiate with the blankets or pillows. He  _could_ break the window- use the glass for a weapon. Though, that seemed a tad bit excessive.

Rowan Whitethorn appeared seconds later with the healer, in leathers and he reeked of blood and steel. Rowan looked him over slowly, taking in Loki’s scars and new wounds. But the healer said, “I’ll leave you for a few minutes. Rowan don’t push too hard.”

His voice was thick with warning, enough so that Loki arched a brow. Perhaps he wasn't as soft as he originally thought.

Rowan's eyes stayed on his. “That'll be all, Asa.”

Asa's eyes narrowed but he ducked out of the room and shut the door with a soft click.

Rowan stared him down, those pine eyes searching him for a threat- for weapons. He didn't have his blades and he felt off balance without them. Though his magic swirled in his blood.

Loki felt his teeth grind together. Rowan folded his massive arms together. “What are you doing in Adalarn, Helstone.”

“Last I checked, I do not lick your boots, Whitethorn.”

“We all serve someone.”

“I don’t.”

It was supposed to be a male’s greatest calling- to protect and serve. He had no one to protect, and he didn’t respect anyone enough to serve them. Perhaps that made him a grade a bastard- a no good halfbreed. But Loki had one person to look out for- and that was himself. If he didn’t, no one else would.

Rowan’s lips thinned. “I haven’t seen you in well over fifty years,” he ground out. “And you’re still an insufferable prick.”

“And you’re still on your knees,” Loki retorted, smoothly. “Just to a new queen. How predictable.”

Rowan snarled and Loki felt his lips twitch up. Rowan’s nostrils flared. He could see Rowan was fighting the urge to put his face through the window. “I want you gone by daybreak. If not, I will make you leave.”

Rowan turned on his heel, and stormed out of the room. Loki slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes. He thought he would be halfway to Milasande by now and wouldn’t have to deal with the Whitethorns or their spawn. Those damned  _witches_.

Loki started for the door, to get new blades and to his horse, but the witch- Asa- was in the doorway. Up close, Asa’s copper eyes were rather pretty, but they were cold as ice as he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I do not believe I have discharged you, Mr. Helstone.”

“You confuse me with someone who cares,” Loki said, going to walk around him.

Asa grabbed his wrist- iron clad, much, much stronger than Loki gave him credit for. “I am your healer. And I am keeping you here for observation.”

Loki jerked his hand away. “Listen. I do not take orders from anyone. Not Rowan Whitethorn, not his queen, and definitely not someone barely into adulthood. I suggest keeping to what you know and let me fend for myself.”

Asa clenched his jaw. Loki started back through the hallway. Asa’s voice cut into the air. “What if I told you Sam and Lyria Galathynius know about the witch who gutted you?”

Loki halted in place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next part!! I hope you enjoy <3

**Author's Note:**

> comments and Kudos are loved <3


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